The twelfth chapter of Еl Collie’s book Branded by the Spirit is titled “Pathologizing the Spirit” and traces the relationship between the symptoms of awakened kundalini and various mental illnesses. For me, this chapter is particularly valuable because it helps reveal the deeper spiritual causes of human suffering—a theme to which a large portion of the articles on this site is devoted (for example, the article “Panic Attacks from a Spiritual Perspective”).
By now, I have gained sufficient experience to know that if we fail to distinguish between the approaches of ego-oriented psychotherapy and spiritually oriented psychotherapy (examples of the latter being Roberto Assagioli’s spiritual psychosynthesis and Carl Jung’s analytical psychology), we will inevitably find ourselves attempting to resolve psychological problems with inappropriate means.
Clinical Diagnoses of Spiritual Crises
In the chapter “Pathologizing the Spirit,” Еl Collie makes her personal contribution to an emerging new understanding of the spiritual dimension of psychological experiences that are usually classified as psychiatric diagnoses, but are in fact expressions of spiritual crises and, as such, require a different kind of approach. However, since she herself is not a psychotherapist, I would like to add several clarifications to what she has written, because the boundary between a spiritual crisis and mental illness is at times dangerously thin—and Carl Jung warned repeatedly about this danger.
To begin with, I would like to remind the reader that since every text reflects the subjective biases of its author (academic authors are no exception), critical reading is of particular importance. Below, I will share what my own “filter” looks like when reading critically, fully aware that it is subject not only to my personal limitations, but also to the limitations of psychology itself—which, like any other science, is constantly evolving and changing.
A clear example of such development is the well-known Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). This American system for classifying mental disorders is used by psychiatrists worldwide because it provides a common language and standardized criteria for diagnosis. The manual is periodically revised: certain diagnoses are removed, along with conditions that were previously regarded as mental illness, while new diagnoses are introduced. To date, five revised editions have been published, and a new one is forthcoming.
It is extremely interesting to observe how, over time, the consensus regarding what constitutes mental health and what is considered mental illness continues to shift. Although for some people such continual updates may generate uncertainty or a sense of unreliability, they are in fact an expression of psychological health—evidence that this discipline is aware of its own limitations and therefore remains open to development. In systemic psychotherapy, diagnoses are even deliberately avoided, as they are regarded as a “second-order reality” and, as such, may themselves become a source for maintaining the problem.
As is usually the case, however, the truth has two sides. Both the new and the old have their rightful place in the science of the human psyche, which is why it is essential to take both sides of this coin into account.
On the One Hand
On the one hand, I fully understand and share the pathos of what El Collie writes about. By this I mean that scientific knowledge concerning the relationship between mental illness and spirituality is still in its infancy, and many more theories and books on this subject are yet to emerge. Jung’s analytical psychology and Assagioli’s spiritual psychosynthesis are among the most frequently cited approaches, but they are by no means the only ones addressing this connection.
David Lukoff is a psychiatrist who has made an enormous contribution to ensuring that spiritual experiences are not treated as mental illnesses. At his initiative, a new category—Religious and Spiritual Problems—was introduced in the latest edition of the diagnostic manual, DSM-IV-TR. This category includes mystical experiences as a distinct type that may manifest as a mental disorder. The aim of introducing this category was to prevent unnecessary hospitalization or pharmacological treatment of spiritual crises that present as psychotic episodes (more on this can be found on his website, spiritualcompetency.com).
Stephanie Marohn’s book The Natural Medicine Guide to Schizophrenia is also devoted to such distinctions. She writes about alternative methods for treating schizophrenia, including shamanism. An excerpt from this book is published in the article “What a Shaman Sees in a Psychiatric Hospital,” which I find particularly compelling. It recounts the experience of a physician of African origin, Dr. Malidoma Patrice Somé. In 1980, he went to the United States for specialization and, during a visit to a psychiatric ward, was deeply shocked by the cultural differences in the treatment of mental illness. What in his own tribe is understood as a sign of the birth of a healer—that is, a shaman—is treated in Western culture as mental illness.
“From the shaman’s point of view, mental illness is a signal of the ‘birth of a healer,’” explains Malidoma Patrice Somé. In other words, psychological disorders signify spiritual awakening and spiritual crises and must be interpreted as such in order to support the birth of the healer. What the West regards as mental illness, the Dagara people regard as “good news from the other world.” The person undergoing the crisis has been chosen to deliver a message from the spirit world to their community. “Mental disorder, behavioral disorder of any kind, is a signal that two apparently incompatible energies have merged into one,” Dr. Somé further explains. These disturbances manifest when the individual does not receive help in dealing with the presence of spiritual energy.
The difference in interpreting psychological experience—and the subsequent method of treatment—can be enormous. Treatment in a psychiatric ward, at best, leads to a freezing of the condition, whereas in shamanic treatment the condition is transformed and healed.
To test his hypothesis that the shamanic approach to healing is applicable not only within his own cultural context, Dr. Somé conducted an experiment. He brought a patient from an American psychiatric hospital to an African tribe where shamanism is practiced. The patient was an eighteen-year-old young man named Alex, who had experienced psychotic episodes accompanied by hallucinations and severe suicidal depressions since the age of fourteen. Four years of hospital treatment had not helped him in any way. Since his parents had done everything they could up to that point, they agreed to allow Dr. Somé to take him to Africa and treat him through shamanic rituals. Eight months later, Alex was considered normal—free from hallucinations and suicidal depression. By his own choice, he remained there for another four years, where he felt far more protected and safe than anywhere else. Upon returning to the United States, he became a psychology student. The last Dr. Somé heard of him was that Alex had graduated in psychology from Harvard University—something unimaginable when he first met him in the psychiatric clinic.
When facts speak, even the most skeptical would do well to remain silent. I believe that more and more evidence will continue to accumulate in this direction. And we will increasingly hear the word shamanism, even though it may not always appear in the form we are accustomed to associating with it. This brings to mind a remark by Marie-Louise von Franz regarding Jung’s therapeutic work:
“When I once told Jung that his psychological insight and his attitude toward the unconscious seemed to me in many respects the same as those of the most archaic religions—for example, shamanism or the religion of the Naskapi Indians, who have neither priests nor rituals but simply follow their dreams, which they believe are sent by the ‘immortal great man of the heart’—Jung replied with a laugh: ‘That is nothing to be ashamed of. It is an honor!’”
— Marie-Louise von Franz, C. G. Jung: His Myth in Our Time, p. 23
On the Other Hand
On the other hand, I believe that medication and psychiatric treatment, as they currently exist, have their unquestionable place in the treatment of mental health problems—including those that have the character of spiritual awakening. For this reason, their role and significance should not be diminished. Not only because not every person possesses the inner resources that Alex had in order to emerge from crisis, but also because our society is still unable to offer a fully developed alternative to what he found through Dr. Somé in Africa. When alternatives to conventional treatment are not yet sufficiently developed, it is better to make use of what we already have, even if it has its limitations.
Like any therapist, I learn from my clients. At times, I work psychotherapeutically with people who are taking medication prescribed by a psychiatrist. What I have learned from them is that some manage to cope with crisis situations without medication, while others do not. The reasons for this vary, and the truth is usually a mixture of several factors. These include:
(1) the absence of a sufficiently developed and strong ego center capable of withstanding the influx of unconscious contents without the support of medication;
(2) an intensity of experience that exceeds the capacity of the nervous system to cope with it;
(3) insufficient spiritual strength to serve as support along the extremely difficult path of spiritual transformation, where “many are called, but few are chosen.”
I had a female client who periodically went through very intense experiences of what is known as “kundalini syndrome.” The inner tension would become extremely strong, but she had found a way to cope by keeping a “pill at hand.” A psychiatrist had prescribed this medication to her some time earlier, but she had long since stopped taking it. It was enough for her to know that there was something she could rely on if necessary. She was interested in astrology, as was I, and when we read what it meant for Pluto to be transiting her third house, we were both astonished by the precision of the description:
“In extreme cases, Pluto transiting the third house is associated with literal breakdowns of the mind or a prolonged period of mental stress, paranoia, or depression… The mind, flooded with primal feelings and emotions, will be unable to function normally… The world around us turns into a living nightmare populated by the subconscious fantasies of the frightened inner child from our past. Prescribing medication may be necessary in order to maintain mental control, but this form of treatment will be of greater benefit when combined with some form of psychological counseling or therapy.”
— Howard Sasportas, The Gods of Change, p. 393
Another client shared that she was only able to free herself from suicidal thoughts after beginning a second antidepressant. Immediately after starting it, she said, “the light came on.” At the same time, however, her autonomic nervous system remained seriously dysregulated, and new bodily symptoms appeared. As becomes evident, matters are neither simple nor unambiguous.
One woman came to me during a period when she had decided to stop taking antidepressants, and all of her previous symptoms had returned. Unfortunately, she did not have the psychological resources to continue with psychotherapy and returned to medication. More often, however, I encounter people who begin psychotherapy while taking medication, later discontinue the medication, and do not return to it. It is crucial to adopt an individual approach to each case—one that takes into account the differing psychological resources for change and resilience.
Odysseus and the Island of the Sirens
There is yet another aspect that evokes mixed feelings. These are situations in which the responsibility for compulsory psychiatric treatment must be assumed not by the person who is suffering, but by their close ones. In 2010, the writer Pamela Kribbe, whom I deeply appreciate and whose book The Jeshua Channelings I often quote here, fell into a classic suicidal depression accompanied by a psychotic episode, during which she was not aware of what was happening to her. Against her will, her family forcibly admitted her to a hospital. There, she received help and emerged from the episode healed and renewed. Although we must respect the right to personal choice, when the consciousness of the ill person is clouded and confused, the decision for treatment must be taken by those closest to them.
In this connection, I am reminded of the ancient Greek myth of Odysseus and his voyage past the island of the Sirens. The Sirens sang so enchantingly that they led sailors astray, dragged them into the depths, and drowned them. To withstand this trial, Odysseus ordered all his sailors to put wax in their ears so they would not hear the Sirens’ song. He himself wished to hear it, but commanded that he be bound to the mast and not released until they had passed the island. As expected, when he heard the Sirens’ alluring song, he begged to be set free, but since the sailors could not hear him, he remained bound until the danger had passed.
I like this story. The influx of archetypal contents is experienced in precisely this way—highly numinous. One is so deeply drawn to these forces rising from the depths of the psyche that one no longer has the strength to resist them alone. Those who have experiences from the realm of the Sirens hear songs that others do not hear. And this is, in fact, a good thing, because it allows others to offer appropriate help, so that they do not drown in the ocean of the collective unconscious.
And while Pamela Kribbe was forcibly taken to a psychiatric hospital by her husband, this did not happen to El Collie. Her spiritual awakening did not end in transformation, but in suicide. We learn this not from her husband, Charles Krez, who was by her side throughout that period, but from the blog of her daughter, Chelsea. Her daughter writes that her mother suffered from depression throughout her life and had even made several suicide attempts earlier on. The third attempt ultimately proved “successful.”
This is the reason for the “other side” of my perspective. I wonder whether this could have been avoided if her husband, like Pamela Kribbe’s husband, had forcibly admitted her to a psychiatric hospital.
It is interesting to observe that, with regard to medication and clinical diagnoses, El Collie and her daughter Chelsea occupy completely opposite positions. Chelsea states that she wishes to demystify her mother’s illness and prefers to speak not of awakened kundalini, but of clinical diagnoses and medication. If one reads some of the articles on her blog, one can see the enormous effort she makes to remain in the world of the living and not repeat her mother’s fate. The irony is that the very same symptoms her mother describes as “kundalini awakening” are also part of the symptomatology of generalized anxiety disorder. Chelsea’s clinging to medication and psychiatric diagnoses may appear, from the outside, like a swing of the pendulum to the opposite extreme, but anyone who knows the reality and power of the forces of the unconscious understands where this profound fear of them comes from.
What is particularly striking is that, in the chapter you are about to read, El Collie herself states: “I know of three cases in which the material released from the unconscious and the superconscious during the process led people to commit suicide. In such extreme cases, where no other help is possible, the calming effect of medication could be life-saving.” Why, then, did she fail to apply this insight to herself? And might what happened to her be yet another indication that people in such a state truly need the decisive help of their families in order to withstand the Sirens?
Between the two extremes in attitudes toward mental illness and medication, each person must decide for themselves what is right for them should they find themselves in such a situation. There are moments when it is wise to seek help in medication, knowing that we can revise this decision once we have passed the dangerous island. In such cases, it is essential to be wise and mature—and this applies equally to deciding what kind of support from loved ones is appropriate.
When Gods Become Illnesses
In his book The Soul’s Code, James Hillman writes:
“Remember Jung’s words: ‘The gods have become diseases.’
To see the angel in illness requires eyes for the invisible, blindness of one eye and the opening of the other in a different direction.It is impossible to see the angel if you have no prior idea of it… Even in the exact sciences, we begin to see celestial phenomena or the specimen under the microscope only after someone has first explained to us what to look for; we need training in the art of seeing. Then the invisible suddenly becomes visible, revealing itself before our half-closed eyes.”
— James Hillman, The Soul’s Code, p. 138
Hillman declares war on the pathologizing of the spirit as embodied in the social consensus of average-minded thinking.
“What happens in most ‘mental institutions,’ where drugs are handed out more shamelessly than condoms, would certainly have destroyed in childhood every one of the extraordinary people discussed in this book. The monstrous inadequacy of the treatment is not a deliberate act on the part of doctors who are trying to do good. It arises inadvertently from the inadequacy and harmfulness of the theory. As long as the statistics of normalizing developmental psychology set the standards by which the extraordinary complexity of life is measured, deviations will be regarded as pathological.
Diagnosis, combined with statistics, constitutes the disease itself, and this is precisely why the universally accepted manual produced by the American Psychiatric Association is called the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual. It is used by the entire profession, by the healthcare system, and by insurance companies. And yet this thick, heavy, and medicinal book tells the story of the various ways in which the divine spirit shapes human destiny—and how sad and strange this appears in our civilization.”
— James Hillman, The Soul’s Code, p. 49
If you read the chapter “Pathologizing the Spirit” by El Collie, you will recognize the same pathos with which Hillman writes. It is necessary to free ourselves from the mode of thinking according to which “widespread” is equated with “normal.” We live in times in which something better than adapting to the statistical average is its transformation. The alternative is to resign ourselves to corruption, falsehood, manipulation, negligence, fearfulness, and moral cowardice.
If we wish to live in a better world, we will need to de-pathologize the Spirit by learning the art of seeing the invisible. Only then will we be able to perceive the angel behind the illness—the one who has been helping us all along not to forget the other world, to remind us who we truly are and why we have come to Earth.
Kameliya Hadzhiyska
Note: The quotations are translated from Bulgarian and are not presented as verbatim citations.
