MSI Press Blog

Dear Carl, Tomorrow is Valentine's day, the first one without you. I want you to know that I received the note above a couple of days after you died. I do not know why it took over a week to reach me; perhaps I was distracted with your dying and spending every minute I could with you even though you were barely aware (seemingly) of what was going on around you. I am told that with the brain fog from hypercalcemia and chemotherapy, it would have taken much effort for you to be able to get online and write this note. I am so glad that you did. That note is the centerpiece on our bureau now. Thank you, too, for the poppies. I know you loved California poppies; that is why I asked you to send me poppy flowers after you died so that I would know that you are okay. Well, even though all the flower books say that poppy season ended six months ago, you have done a good job of keeping at least a couple of the poppy plants blooming. The one at the bottom of the hill had three blossoms yester

  3 “Tell me you’ll love me for a million years. Then you can tell me we tried.” (The Casinos) For most people, this may be the most important topic in this book. “There are no atheists in a foxhole.” In other words, people often look to God and religion in times of crisis; in times when they recognize and acknowledge their own fragility and ultimate helplessness. As the Danish existentialist Soren Kierkegaard describes it, these are the times Of Fear and Trembling (1843). Yes, a crisis is not necessarily a bad thing. A crisis can be a wake-up call—the understanding, finally, that everything is not all right just as it is and that change, sometimes radical change, is necessary. But a crisis can also lead to terror, the terror of a past that is no longer viable and a future that is most uncertain, and terror can lead to paralysis and paralysis can lead to despair. The benefits of theology in such times have not been historically all that clear. In fact, the Deism of the 17th and 1

I don’t know who wants to hear this right now, but I hope you will share this with anyone who needs it. I promise you, there are people you love out there right now who are scared, and they don’t feel like they can talk to anyone about what they are truly afraid of. You probably also have loved ones in high risk groups who are not afraid and who are ready to talk, but they may be quite lonely because no one will listen.  As many of you know, I used to work as a hospice chaplain, visiting people in their final months, weeks, days, and hours, as well as sitting and praying at the deathbed after a loved one’s passing. I’ve had terrifying experiences as well as profoundly blissful ones, but every single encounter with death has been humbling. There were times I felt the pull of dark energies nearby and times I was floating in bottomless peace. Yet one of the most important insights that came from those families I had the honor to witness and care about was this: much of the fear of

A sharing  S ., 20 years old, completely inexperienced in spiritual practices and in therapeutic processes, after her first experience expanding a positive emotion.  When I was asked, at the beginning of the process, to revive the most positive experience in my life, the first image that came into my mind was the day on which I had parachuted for the first time. I had been waiting to jump from the tiny plane; my entire body was already outside of it, and I had felt sure of myself—happy, free and limitless. I had felt that it would be much better to be up in the sky than down on the ground. When I took the leap, it was like floating, and my entire body felt fresh and alive. I was particularly excited while hovering over the sea and seeing the green areas all around. I identified the emotion as “Freedom” and located it in my heart. It felt like confidence and also, lightness, as if all my cells were opening up. The shape was a circle; the color, pink; the feeling, lighthearted