A Healing Space

by Matt Licata

  A Vast Meadow

  In this landscape of now, we might notice our orientation shifting out of a journey from “here” to “there” to resting in a more natural state strangely already complete, compassionately tending to reality as it is, rooted in curiosity and the love of pure being. Thoughts continue to come and go—as do feelings, emotions, sounds, images, memories, and sensations in the body. But they are coming and going in a vast meadow of space—not in a cold, distant, void-like space but one filled with the qualities of presence and warmth. This space is fertile and pregnant, emanating possibility and a quantum sort of potentiality. In some inexplicable way, we sense that we are already healed, already fully awake in the immediacy of this moment, and even if we wanted to, we would have absolutely no idea how to improve this moment or what that would even mean.

  In a way that can seem paradoxical to one seeking further understanding, clarification, and transformation, the “healing” and “awakening” have nothing to do with the presence or absence of any particular experience. The grand replacement project, in which one thought or feeling is interchanged with another, is no longer the axis around which we orient. Rather, whatever internal experience appears is met with curiosity and by way of relationship—even if difficult, challenging, and intense, it is experientially known to be workable, valid, and an expression of creativity and intelligence. But how could this be? What happened to the compelling and persuasive conviction that something is wrong? Surely, there is something still wrong. Isn’t there? I know I can find it—just give me a minute, and I’ll remember what is wrong with me, what needs fixing, curing, healing, transforming, and shifting. This can be an interesting place in which to find ourselves, unsure of whether there is something wrong with us, uncertain whether something needs to be transformed or healed or whether these images, lenses, and metaphors are no longer the ones we are engaging with in our interaction with self, others, and world. It’s not so much that we’ve made some decision about them by way of reaction or willful dismissal, but that somehow they’re no longer occupying the foreground in the way they used to.

  In these moments, we become aware of a primordial sort of trust in life and in our own experience. Nothing need be cultivated, generated, healed, or transformed for right now. It does appear that some sort of shift happened, but it did not arise from our own will and effort. It did not follow in some causal way from something we did or even from our intention. We did not shift something; it feels more like something shifted us, or the background context in which we find ourselves shifted and took us along with it. But even the idea of a “shift” crumbles away into the vastness of the moment.

  To stay with this much openness requires new levels of curiosity, courage, and perhaps most of all a radical friendliness toward ourselves and our immediate experience. It can take some time to get used to, fully trust, and allow the decades-old organization around improvement to be washed away in the great ocean of what we are. Without this new lens and profound self-compassion, we’re not going to be able to open into the unknown and stay with the groundlessness of having no reference point other than awareness itself. We are so used to having some stable center point around which to orient and look back to confirm who we are.

  When the ways we come to imagine ourselves, others, and the world fall away in a moment of spaciousness and illumination, we find ourselves in a liminal space, in between worlds, not sure where to seek refuge and orientation. Without these familiar positions, we are in new territory. Although this environment can feel alive and even exciting, it can also be disorienting and even a bit terrifying when the rug of the conceptual is pulled away, especially if it is not replaced by another rug on which we can find solidity. In one way, there is no ground to rest on, yet in another, the ground is everywhere. But because it is not separate from what we already are, we do not always easily perceive it, not to mention live, love, and work from such an open, undefended place. It is like asking a fish if she knows about this thing called water. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of it,” she replies. “I will be on the lookout.”

  In the next chapter, we’ll continue to unpack the subtleties of our beliefs and practices as we build the foundation for a spirituality of our own—authentic, creative, unique, and alive for each of us, connecting us with the heavens while grounding us in the earth. Although we can and will always draw on the experience of the great yogis, meditators, soul explorers, and mapmakers of the inner world, the invitation is toward discovering our own unprecedented journey, oriented in the depths and the fire of our own immediate experience.

  7

  Toward an Embodied, Emotionally Sensitive Spirituality

  Over the past few decades, researchers have explored a phenomenon in which engagement with spirituality is seen (in part) to serve a defensive function in the avoidance of emotional vulnerability, relational trauma, and psychological wounding. Coined in 1984 by psychologist and Vajrayana Buddhist practitioner John Welwood, the term “spiritual bypassing” refers to the use of spiritual beliefs and practices to circumvent a direct, conscious relationship with painful feelings, unresolved psychological wounding, and unmet developmental needs.1 With many millions each year taking up practices such as yoga, mindfulness, meditation, shamanic journeying, and other forms of self-development and spiritual growth, it is important to cultivate an awareness of the dynamics of this phenomenon and how as individuals and communities we can most skillfully respond to its varied manifestations. To pretend this isn’t happening or to close our eyes to its expressions can have profound consequences, as many have discovered.

  Although it was a radical discovery some decades ago that spiritual practice, even the most advanced and sophisticated forms of yoga and meditation, were often unable to penetrate the deepest layers of psychological, emotional, and somatic wounding, this notion has come to be more accepted in contemporary spiritual subculture. Over the years, many have discovered that spiritual practice alone is not able to fully or most skillfully address all forms of suffering. Because most of our developmental challenges originated within the context of interpersonal misattunement, many believe we must look to the relational field itself to get at the root of personal healing. Research has also suggested that “earned security,” that transformational journey from insecure to secure attachment, occurs primarily by way of relationship, whether formally in the context of psychotherapy or in intimate, romantic partnership or even close friendship. The implication is that wounds and blockages that arose relationally are not necessarily resolved or best untangled through solo-based, contemplative practice alone.

  Fundamentally speaking, spiritual bypass emerges when the spiritual line of development is emphasized at the expense of attention to other, critical areas. Consequently, through the mature inclusion of experiential work in somatic, cognitive, emotional, moral, and interpersonal domains of experience, spiritual bypassing can be starved at its source. Although the relative priority of developmental levels in a person’s life will shift both temporally and situationally, the underlying notion remains: if we allow any of the developmental lines to overshadow others, pushing them into the background, ignoring, or “bypassing” them, we do so at our own peril. In turning away from any of the fundamental areas of human development, we create fertile soil in which spiritual bypassing can flower.

  We must remember that more spiritual practice is not always the most wise, skillful, or effective remedy for working with developmental trauma and other types of relational wounding or the right medicine for all forms of suffering. In fact, certain types of inner work can overwhelm the body and nervous system and constellate retraumatization. More meditation, more resting in the present moment, more forgiving, and more accepting are not always the right prescription in a particular life at a particular time. This realization is not always easy to let in for those of us deeply committed to our spiritual lives, but in the end doing so can be a great act of both wisdom and compassion.

  The Brighter the Light, the La
rger the Shadow

  It might come as no surprise that spiritual groups and communities can be a breeding ground for the manifestation of spiritual bypassing. This occurs, for example, when emotional and interpersonal development is usurped by an emphasis on cognitive and transpersonal experience, with the former relegated to a “lower” status as compared with “purer” and “more advanced” spiritual work. In many of these groups, methods of transformation and healing outside the ones sanctioned by the tradition are not encouraged—or are even frowned upon—leaving some members struggling to address issues such as low self-esteem, trauma, narcissistic injury, and the effects of insecure attachment. Those suffering in these ways are often critiqued for not having enough faith or commitment to the teachings and practices; however, the teachings and practices are only serving to further entrench them in organizations of experience not attended to with more faith and more discipline. Not to mention the chaos, abuse, pain, and unbridled narcissism we’ve all seen over the years with certain teachers and outright denial in their communities, including painful and devastating scandals in areas of money, power, and sexuality. The brighter the light, the larger the shadow, so they say.

  Spiritual bypassing can almost always be observed in the ways in which we are avoiding or diminishing one (or more) developmental lines. In so doing, we attempt to go around these critical (and often messy) domains of human experience—such as the body, relationships, sexuality, emotions, parenting, money, and work—en route to the transpersonal and transcendent. An effective response (or preventative) to the phenomena of spiritual bypassing is an approach to our lives that addresses personal, interpersonal, and transpersonal dimensions of our human experience. In other words, we cannot leave out the personal (our developmental histories, historic core vulnerabilities, trauma, self-identity, and organizing narratives) or the relational (our capacities to allow another to matter, expectations in relationship, attachment wounding, organization around the experiences of abandonment and enmeshment) if we are interested in an embodied, fully human approach to spirituality.

  Problems related to spiritual bypassing occur frequently in the lives of spiritual practitioners, usually in the form of dissociation or splitting off from unwanted feelings, bodily sensations, and habitual patterns of perception. As with all defensive behavior, we engage in spiritual bypassing to avoid pain, emotional vulnerability, and the anxiety underlying the deep sense of separation we feel from ourselves, others, and the world. All sentient beings appear to be wired, conditioned, and habituated to turn from that which is unpleasant and anxiety provoking. Although the stated goal of most spiritual systems is the reduction of suffering and the increase of freedom and peace, we can all make use of these teachings and practices to reject parts of ourselves and experiences too painful to confront directly. Because the dynamics and expressions of spiritual bypassing can be quite subtle—and often unconscious—its movement frequently goes undetected. Illuminating this territory, not with shame, blame, and increased self-aggression but with curiosity, awareness, and kindness is a great gift we can provide both ourselves and others.

  Defenses as Allies on the Path

  Whether we use the term “spiritual bypassing,” it is most important to see into the ways our relationship with spirituality, personal development, and self-help teachings can be used to come closer to ourselves, others, and the world or to take us further way and support unconscious patterns of thought, feeling, and behavior. In some circles, the term has taken on a pathological tone, neither warranted nor helpful, in which we use the discovery of avoidance as yet another vehicle through which to practice self-aggression. In many ways, “spiritual bypassing” is no different than any other defense mechanism. It serves an important adaptive function and must be honored and respected as such, not attacked, shamed, and torn down in some glorious heroic enlightenment project. We can discover a tremendous amount of information in reflecting upon the ways we engage with certain teachings and practices to avoid pain, intimacy, emotional experience, and unwanted parts of ourselves. The goal is not to “get rid of” spiritual bypassing per se but to bring more consciousness (and compassion) to it so that its inevitable expressions can be used in service of mature spiritual depth.

  If we’re interested in this, we could take some time and ask: To what degree is my engagement with spirituality (or therapy or self-help teachings, etc.) bringing me closer to myself, to previously disowned feelings and shadow aspects of my personality, to the underlying core beliefs I have about myself, to my fears and longings around intimacy, and to the ways I have come to imagine myself, others, and the world? Alternatively, to what degree might my beliefs and practices be keeping me away from those parts of myself, promoting distraction and avoidance, and preventing deeper awareness of my own narcissism, blind spots, and unfelt feelings?

  There are times when defending against difficult experience is, in fact, the most skillful way to respond to a situation in our lives. If, for example, we use certain meditative practices or journaling or breathing techniques to reduce symptoms of anxiety so that we can make it through the day, attend to our jobs, or be present with our children, is this “spiritual bypassing?” Are we “using” our practices to “get rid of” anxiety rather than work through and integrate it? Let us not answer too quickly. We must be willing to go deep into our own experience because the territory here is nuanced and subtle, for we can even use the concept of spiritual bypassing itself to attack parts of ourselves and reenact dynamics of self-aggression.

  In psychodynamic practice, working with defensive organization takes an incredible amount of insight and the capacity to hold and navigate multiple and contradictory thoughts and feelings. The phrase “defense mechanism” has a fairly negative connotation in spiritual circles; however, we must remember the consistent invitation throughout this book that the goal is not to “get rid of” some unwanted aspect of our experience but to increase consciousness regarding what’s going on. Training ourselves to see how we might be using our relationship with inner work to avoid certain aspects of our experience is intelligent and kind to ourselves and others. In this way, even our defensive organization, in this case in the form of spiritual bypassing, can be imagined as an ally on our path because it provides endless opportunities for deepening awareness.

  Developmentally, spiritual bypassing is an effective strategy (as are all good defense mechanisms) through which we learn to care for ourselves, to honor the delicate nature of a traumatized nervous system, or to prevent too much feeling or anxiety to emerge too quickly, overwhelming us with buried experience we have not yet been able to integrate. The invitation is not to crash through the wall of our defenses but to approach them with widening perspective and love. This is not to say that they do not need to be brought into consciousness and transformed, but we can do so in an overall environment of curiosity and compassion rather than shame and self-attack.

  Explore . . . and Then Rest

  It can be helpful to differentiate psychological and spiritual dimensions of our inquiry as a way of orienting and ensuring that we are touching on as many aspects of our experience as possible. Whether we believe psychological work and spiritual practice are the same or different, it is clear they interpenetrate and affect each other. Some believe they are the expression of one seamless movement in the human person, and that might be true at a deep level. But it can also be useful to separate them to help us approach them in the most skillful way possible. By differentiating them in this way, we don’t need to take any metaphysical position on whether they are or are not the same or different; it’s really just an experiment that might help us to come closer to our experience and to understand the subtleties at deeper levels.

  Psychological inquiry is oriented in our capacity to reflect on our experience—to step back and take a perspective on the core beliefs, organizing narratives, emotional and somatic experience, memories, dreams, and fantasies that shape the way we have come to see ourselves, others, and th
e world. Without this capacity for self-reflection, we become fused (or “identified”) with our experience, embedded within it, and unable to enter spacious and creative relationship with the seemingly unending display of our thoughts, feelings, and sensations.

  To return to our discussion in the previous chapter, psychological work (generally speaking) focuses upon the content of our experience and how it unfolds in our lives. It involves uncovering the ways we are making sense of our experience and the meaning we have prescribed to it. It might also involve understanding and reflecting upon the historical origins of the content and the unconscious lenses through which we engage important relationships, with the goal of making these lenses more conscious so that we can heal and transform out-of-date perceptions and narratives with more integrated and real-time ones that reflect our deepest insights and realizations.