A Short Spiritual Biography

The Spirit of Recovery

Without inner peace, nothing else matters; with inner peace, nothing else matters.

Ed Knight's Tale

Waist-high pea green walls divide the large dormitory into six sleeping areas, six metal beds in each, thirty-six patients. A blue-gray cigarette smog clouds the entire room. Shuffling down the hall between the sleeping areas, a figure in State-issue clothing, a shirt crudely sewn from light blue plaid industrial-grade curtain material, beltless gray pants, stiff, too large. Barely able to put one foot before the other, he tugs on his sagging pants every third step. "The thorazine shuffle." The man knows it is not the thorazine. It is emotional pain so deep his skin hurts. As he has done many times before, the man is figuring a way to kill himself. He doesn't want to die. He wants the pain to end, to live without the constant agony. Silently, his lips breath, "Help." He speaks to no image, no divine principle, no inner notion of God. His is just a plea to someone stronger than himself that the pain will go down. He acts on the prayer. He shuffles to bed and curls up tight and falls asleep.

The next morning, awake, I am no longer a stranger, an alien occupying an unknown body. The pain had gone down just enough to allow me to get out of bed. My prayer had been answered. The rest was up to me. Looking around at the hopeless figures that surrounded me in that dismal State hospital ward, I made a decision: if I could help myself, I would find a way to help them as well. This time around schizophrenia would not be hopeless. Instead, it would be an illness with dignity. This time would be different.

From the Verrazano Foundation website.