Close to the Bone. Jean Shinoda Bolen

the mystical, spiritual, or psychic awareness of what is happening, however, determines its significance as a soul experience. So it is with a life-threatening illness, which similarly happens in and to the body and yet can profoundly affect the soul.

      Illness, especially when death is a possibility, makes us acutely aware of how precious life is and how precious a particular life is. Priorities shift. We may see the truth of what matters, who matters, and what we have been doing with our lives and have to decide what to do—now that we know. Significant relationships are tested and either come through strengthened or fail. Pain and fear bring us to our knees in prayer. Our spiritual and religious convictions or the lack of them are called into question. Illness is an ordeal for both body and soul and a time when healing of either or both can result.

      Once upon a time, or so it seemed, potentially fatal illnesses were unexpected tragic events that happened to young children, and terminal illnesses were mostly chronic conditions that afflicted the elderly. Diagnostic tests and biopsies have made it possible to diagnose life-threatening illnesses earlier and treat them aggressively; so much so that invasive treatments can be health and life endangering themselves. Midlife now presents the possibility of death and disability for far too many people. Not just cancer, but also diseases that affect the health of body and mind strike people in their prime adult years. There are times when midlife can feel like a medical war zone, with people dropping around us; for those of us in the health professions the impact of numbers is even greater. Life-threatening and life-changing illnesses are striking close to home. One may be threatening your spouse, your lover, your son or your daughter, your parent, your friend, or you.

      To be a passive, obedient patient or, the terrain on which a battle is fought by the medical profession, goes against the grain of people who question authority, see value in alternative viewpoints, and understand that body and psyche are related. Whether as patient or as a person with love and responsibility for the patient, there are life-and-death consequences to the choices we make or allow others to make. To act out of fear or out of trust, to go with intuition or against it, to do what we know is right for us when it upsets someone else—issues that are life issues are made all the more crucial when death or recovery may depend upon what we decide. Moreover, if the battle for a medical cure is lost, doctors often abandon the field, all but avoiding the patient, who is now a reminder of defeat.

      Illness as a Psychological Ordeal

      The travails of being a patient and the physical illness together are an ordeal that can have a transformative effect on the soul. Psychological stress is a major part of the ordeal through which the soul must pass. When the possibility of a serious illness unexpectedly arises on a routine examination, or there is an onset of symptoms, or there is a need to be hospitalized, we may be assailed by fears and vulnerabilities. We fear—with or without justification—that we may never be our former healthy selves ever again. Those close to the patient may also be having these or similar concerns, or be having them when the patient is not.

      Thoughts are shaped by how we perceive what is happening to us or to someone near and dear every bit as much and sometimes even more so than by objective information. Depending upon our psychological makeup, under such circumstances we tend to live in the present or in the future as we foresee it. If a serious illness is a potential that will only be known after the biopsy or after the workup, a person who lives in the present can often put dire possibilities easily out of mind: an attitude of “why borrow trouble?” comes naturally. A future-oriented person, on the other hand, especially one who worries or is aware of the likelihood and magnitude of the situation, may have the patient practically dead and buried before the results are in. Stress may be virtually absent for one, and off the chart for the other. When someone is in the throes of pain, limitation, weakness, or nausea, the awfulness of the moment may not only be all there is, but all there ever will be for that person, while another person faced with the same symptoms may experience this as part of a difficult time that will pass. When pain is not relieved, or obsessive negative thoughts crowd the mind, they leave little room to attend to the concerns of the soul.

      Soul Moments

      For soul to be heard, the mind must be still. Then thoughts and feelings can arise as if from a deep well within us. Often these thoughts and feelings are not shared. When they are, the soul looks outward for a moment, and we hope that we can truly share the depth into which illness is taking us. We wonder if we should die, will our lives have been worthwhile? What do we regret doing or not having done? What do we still want time for? Do we matter? Do the people in our lives really matter to us? Is there a God? An afterlife? What unfinished business gnaws at us? What long-buried thoughts and memories are coming back to us now? What are our dreams saying?

      When we voice concerns and content such as these, we are baring our soul. At such moments, we are as if naked, and all too often when we speak of such matters, the impulse of others is to hurriedly cover up our words with a thin layer of reassurance—to which we respond by withdrawing. Revealing matters of the soul makes those who dwell in shallower waters uncomfortable. Soul-searching questions are those that people who are addicted to work or to alcohol or to superficial activities are warding off by their addictions. They do not want to be exposed to their own deep questions, as voiced by us.

      Sometimes, we are caught looking inward, feeling something move in our own depths—a thought, a memory, emotion, an intuition, wisdom—and someone says, “A penny for your thoughts?” And we retreat self-consciously. Or this time we speak our concerns aloud, and there is joy at finding a soul friend. A soul-level friend is a sanctuary, a person to whom we can tell the truth of what we feel or know or perceive. When something is expressed at a soul level, it is not something for the other to fix or minimize or deny or take personally; what is said and felt needs to be received, heard, accepted, held—as in a womb space, where the insights into ourselves and what matters to us can incubate, grow, and develop fully into consciousness.

      Those moments of stillness when the eyes seem to turn inward are pregnant silences, times when we are communing with our deeper thoughts or perceptions or holding a feeling or an image that can be all too fleeting; the mood shifts and what for a moment we had a grasp on can be gone like a dream fragment.

      The premise of this book is that illness can be soul evoking and that the soul realm is one akin to dream or reverie, a source of personal meaning and wisdom that can transform life and heal us. This is not to say that illness is ever welcomed. It can only be retrospectively appreciated by those for whom it was a soul experience, but having a perspective such as this makes the potential of it being so more likely.

      Recovery of soul and recovery of the health of the body may occur together or not; healing may occur, and the body may not survive. Life is a terminal condition, after all. It is a matter of when and how we die, not whether we will. Illness takes us out of our ordinary lives and concerns and confronts us with big questions and the opportunity of tapping into soul knowledge that can transform us and the situation. Prayers that are said and rituals that are done help by focusing us and by tapping into spiritual energies.

      At a soul level, we can see clearly what matters and recognize the truth of our personal situation. We know that we are spiritual beings on a human path rather than human beings who may be on a spiritual path. At the soul level we recognize what is sacred and eternal. At the soul level, an illness, even a terminal one, is a potential beginning, a liminal time when we are between the ordinary world and the invisible one.

      Soul Questions

      I believe that in any particular illness as in every individual life, the soul questions are the same: What did we come to do? What did we come to learn? What did we come to heal? What and who did we come to love? What are we here for? Questions to do with the essence of who we are. I believe that illness can be a call to consciousness, a wake-up call some would say, and that illness involves a descent into the depths and an exposure to what we fear. I have seen how illness can unearth love and reveal strength of character, and I know that it is truly an opportunity for soul growth. Or not. I believe that stories and myths, dreams and mystical experiences can become more vivid during illnesses, and that integrating soul knowledge