I've only been graced with true, union-with-God beatific visions twice: at a river bank on 4-HO-MET, and on a train through Montana & North Dakota on 25c-nBOME.
Meth, though, compels me to hyperfocus on any subject I happen to fixate on. Sometimes that's cleaning/rubbing off/other stereotypical tweaker activities, but I also love getting lost on the Internet learning random shit. The other day (on propylhexedrine, granted, but IIRC molecularly speaking it's identical to methamphetamine except with the phenyl group replaced with cyclohexane), I was pondering addiction (generally and personally) and remembered finding consolation in reading St. Augustine's
Confessions* some years ago. So, as one inevitably does, I followed a Wikipedia trail through St. Augustine/other early-Christian theologians/Christian mysticism/Catholic doctrine/doctrine on Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory, and on that page I found a quote by Saint Catherine of Genoa that resounded deep within me, to the point of tears of bittersweetness and beauty.
Full disclosure: Though I'm Catholic by upbringing, I'm now agnostic. My interest in and appreciation for--and indeed, ability to tolerate the phrasing of--Christian teachings is enabled by my interpretation of the texts as metaphorical instead of literal. "God," to me, is the indescribable transcendence of all-consuming love, understanding, and peace that I have touched, however fleetingly, at times through nature, art, relationships, meditation, and psychedelics--and "sin" is subjective, self-defined as the things we willfully do that go against our personal morality and bright about guilt, shame, and self-loathing.
But no matter your religious inclination, this quote may be of solace to those of us thrown into self-hatred and despair by the changes wrought upon us by addiction, or weathering the agony--the purgatory--of getting clean:
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"
As for paradise, God has placed no doors there. Whoever wishes to enter, does so. All-merciful God stands there with His arms open, waiting to receive us into His glory. I also see, however, that the divine presence is so pure and light-filled – much more than we can imagine – that the soul that has but the slightest imperfection would rather throw itself into a thousand hells than appear thus before the divine presence. Tongue cannot express nor heart understand the full meaning of purgatory, which
the soul willingly accepts as a mercy the realization that that suffering is of no importance compared to the removal of the impediment of sin." [Saint Catherine of Genoa]
Wikipedia explains:
"...in her time the purification of souls (Purgatory) was pictured as a location in space, but [Saint Catherine] saw Purgatory as a purifying inner fire, such as she experienced in her profound sorrow for sins committed, when compared with God's infinite love. She said that
being bound still to the desires and suffering that derive from sin makes it impossible for the soul to enjoy the beatific vision of God."
And 500 years later, Pope Benedict XVI commented:
"We too feel how distant we are, how full we are of so many things that we cannot see God. The soul is aware of the immense love and perfect justice of God and consequently suffers for having failed to respond in a correct and perfect way to this love; and love for God itself becomes a flame,
love itself cleanses it from the residue of sin."
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By my interpretation (which admittedly takes some liberties with the intended literal meaning of the words), the crux of all this is empowering: contrary to contemporary conceptions of Christianity, there is no judgemental God to punish us according to his rules; "God" is the light, joy, peace we all seek in life, and when our actions lead us to guilt or shame (our "sins"),we see ourselves as lesser, unworthy of a good life and unable to do good, with the resulting existential depression fueling repetition of the hated actions--which in drug addiction is a negative-feedback loop straight to rock bottom.
And yet--
we do this to ourselves. We create our own Heaven and Hell, judge ourselves and dwell in the created mindset in which we believe we deserve to be. But by the same token, we can
choose to forgive (ourselves and others), to consciously make the right choices, to find and hold on to the light. And, as the concept of Purgatory illustrates, the path to our personal redemption is inevitably filled with suffering. It is painful to face our bad choices, the hurt we've caused ourselves and others; painful to right our wrongs; and
agonizing to constantly exert our willpower, every day, fighting temptation and cravings and relapse.
Getting clean, or indeed any positive step towards a reduction in use, requires immense bravery. But these battles are "purifying inner fires"; by choosing to fight them we are cleansing the conscience of our soul, delivering ourselves from our self-inflicted Hell.
Sorry for tweaking; thanks for reading.
*-The parts of Augustine's
Confessions I found particularly meaningful are from
Book Two, specifically the following:
"I wish now to review in memory my past wickedness and the carnal corruptions of my soul -- not because I still love them, but that I may love thee, O my God. For love of thy love I do this, recalling in the bitterness of self-examination my wicked ways, that thou mayest grow sweet to me, thou sweetness without deception! Thou sweetness happy and assured! Thus thou mayest gather me up out of those fragments in which I was torn to pieces, while I turned away from thee, O Unity, and lost myself among 'the many.' For as I became a youth, I longed to be satisfied with worldly things, and I dared to grow wild in a succession of various and shadowy loves. My form wasted away, and I became corrupt in thy eyes, yet I was still pleasing to my own eyes -- and eager to please the eyes of men." [Chapter I]
"There was a pear tree close to our own vineyard, heavily laden with fruit, which was not tempting either for its color or for its flavor. Late one night -- having prolonged our games in the streets until then, as our bad habit was -- a group of young scoundrels, and I among them, went to shake and rob this tree. We carried off a huge load of pears, not to eat ourselves, but to dump out to the hogs, after barely tasting some of them ourselves. Doing this pleased us all the more because it was forbidden. Such was my heart, O God, such was my heart -- which thou didst pity even in that bottomless pit. Behold, now let my heart confess to thee what it was seeking there, when I was being gratuitously wanton, having no inducement to evil but the evil itself. It was foul, and I loved it. I loved my own undoing. I loved my error -- not that for which I erred but the error itself. A depraved soul, falling away from security in thee to destruction in itself, seeking nothing from the shameful deed but shame itself." [Chapter 4]