Delusional Faith

My parents and I recently moved to Virginia to be closer to family, specifically my sister and brother-in-law, and their three young children. It is wonderful to be near family again, but the relocation and the emotional upheaval it created, dealt a strong blow to my belief in a physical recovery.

Francis was to visit Austin before the move, and to prepare me for the event, was blasting me quite regularly through Skype phone calls. The building up of energy seemed to indicate that something spectacular was going to happen. My belief in this was so strong, that the day before his arrival in Austin, I felt a tremendous anxiety. Yes, some of these emotions may have been due to the pending move, but I felt like it had more to do with the anticipation of finally recovering.

It probably seems odd to some people that I would have anxiety over recovering. It was very frustrating to me as well, as I had already observed this fear a little over a year ago, during another one of Francis’s visits to Austin. But despite the fear there was also courage and excitement, and I felt more ready than ever before to break through my barriers, face my future, and experience my destiny.

Unfortunately, the rest of this story has become all too familiar. Sensations, energy, heightened anticipation, a rising action building and building to a climactic underwhelming disappointment. Once again, Francis got in his car and drove away, but this time my reaction was quite different than my usual disappointment followed by a resurgence of faith. No, this time I became angry, and that anger soon led to the feeling that I just didn’t care about anything anymore. Though it sounds like a negative thing, at the time it felt quite nice. It was a feeling of freedom. Freedom from expectations, freedom from fear, freedom from caring what anybody thought of me.

Much of my fear of walking was centered around the notion that I may garner a lot of attention from others. My book might get published, a lot of people might know me and hold me to a certain ideal, an ideal that I could never uphold. I was terrified that I could not be the person people expected me to be, that I could not be spiritual enough, saintly enough, perfect enough. So the freedom I was experiencing was the releasing of this weight. The weight of feeling like I needed to be a certain kind of person, or wear a mask hiding the true nature of who I am in this life. Perhaps this release was exactly the healing that I needed.

This feeling of freedom however, could not stop a slight fall into depression once we packed our things and left Austin. I had told myself a while back that if I moved to Virginia still in my wheelchair, I would refocus my life and start moving in a different direction. This wasn’t happening. I just couldn’t give up. But I needed to somehow create a resurgence of faith, of belief in this path of recovery. Part of the feeling of freedom I felt after seeing Francis, was the desire to be a doer in life. To stop sitting around and waiting for things to come to me. So when the thought emerged that I wanted to talk to a friend of Francis, a psychic medium, I decided to go for it.

I was extremely nervous before calling her, but soon after she picked up the phone and said hello in her British cockney accent, the nerves melted away. She gave me many messages, such as the fact that I needed to relax, quit taking things so seriously. She said I needed to be more forgiving of myself, not give myself such a hard time. And that there was no need to fear my recovery, because when the time came to be in the spotlight, I would be ready. She said it’s like I am baking a cake, but I keep opening the oven door to see if it’s ready. “Just leave the door shut and let the cake rise,” she said.

She encouraged me, telling me I will walk again when the time is right, but that I needed to start exercising again, and believe in my recovery.  She said to stop brushing aside sensations and muscle twitches, signs of recovery as just spasms, or nothing important. I did not think I did this, but after observing the past few weeks, she was right! I didn’t even realize it.

I felt like she knew me intimately, as she pinpointed so many of my struggles and negative emotions. I received everything I needed from the conversation, my faith was restored, my fears disintegrated, and I knew what I had to do. I had to press on. I had to go ever deeper in my spiritual practice, my visualizations, and start exercising. But most importantly, I had to believe.

I used to hate this statement. If someone told me I had to believe, I wanted to punch them in the mouth. Francis stated the same sentiment several days before I talked with the psychic. It didn’t make much sense at the time. He had always told me that I didn’t have to believe, going on to tell stories of people who came in for healing completely cynical and pessimistic, only to be miraculously healed of their physical issues. I asked him why is it that other people don’t have to believe but I do?

His response…“karma”.

I don’t always know what to expect from Francis, but somehow this answer I expected. Karma means different things to different people, but to me at that moment, it simply meant that it was something I came here to do. “Here” meaning this life, this incarnation.

Developing belief in something is not easy, especially when it seems to contradict natural law as we know it. There was a time when I could not believe no matter how hard I tried. The more I forced it, the more I rejected it. Eventually I gave up on believing and focused on surrender and living in the moment. I felt it was more important to not not believe rather than believe. As time went on my belief in recovery began to grow, in large part because of Francis, and the awareness of the powerful healing I could feel taking place.

It can be frustrating, because I ask myself why would I be doing all this, putting forth all this effort if I didn’t believe? Of course I believe!

But maybe I don’t? Maybe my belief still isn’t seated at the throne of my higher self, the central generator of spiritual power. Maybe the ego and the subconscious are still playing their cruel tricks manifesting secret intentions behind closed doors.

It is scary to take on these responsibilities, but I cannot run from it. If the message I am receiving is to believe, than I have to believe. I have to trust in the divine path, and the ever present God consciousness that pervades all creation. There is no such thing as a life without purpose, there is no such thing as a single moment without purpose and my recent struggles are no different. They are providing me with the exact opportunities I need to move forward, and I pray now, that my belief, my faith, and my self-healing powers will grow ever stronger as I continue on the path of spiritual evolution.

I can see many psychiatrists observing my life and my decision-making, thinking that I twist reality to suit my fancy, my delusional vision of what I want to occur in my life. But maybe that’s what absolute faith is, refusing to take anything at face value, listening to the heart, and being completely delusional to the illusion that life is limited in any shape or form.

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2 Responses to Delusional Faith


    The books Fakir and Fakir — the Journey continues, both by Ruzbeh Bharucha, give some pointers and help in understanding karma, and how to deal with it. Vinod V Sarma

  2. Pingback: Sadhana and the Divine Transformation | The Power of Tragedy

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