THE TRIQUETRA OF LIFE: Wisdom, Wealth, and Wellness

An Excerpt from Chapter Twenty-Two

Path Perilous: My Search for God and the Miraculous

A true story of my spiritual breakthrough recounting that moment of discernment during psychiatric hospitalization, where human presence became an instrument through which healing was quietly set in motion.

1965 — Age 23

At Mass Mental Health, I moved from one hospital activity to another, trying to quiet the restless mix of devotion and confusion within me. I entered the office unaware that a single question from my Harvard-trained psychiatrist would pierce straight through the fog.

I had just come from an art class, working with pastel chalks, drawing a robed monk tolling a bell in a convent steeple. The image carried a hush that steadied me.

We sat in a small windowed cubicle, bare except for a desk and two chairs. After a few preliminary remarks, he said, “So—how do you feel about me today?”

“I … think … I think I love you,” I said.

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, folding his long fingers on the desk. “Go on.”

The next words I spoke came out wrong—unguarded and embarrassing—before I could restrain them. My hands gripped the arms of the chair.

“How do you feel, having said that?” he asked.

“Angry. Upset,” I said. “I don’t understand why it came out that way.”

“This may be one of our last sessions,” he said quietly.

Looking back, I see that he was not a savior, nor did he replace what belongs to God alone. In that room, however, he provided something I had long lacked: a human presence capable of receiving the truth without recoil. Through that encounter, a blockage gave way, and the slow work of healing began.

From the memoir-in-progress, nearing publication:
Path Perilous: My Search for God and the Miraculous
—a spiritual epic for truth-seekers, contemplative mystics, and all who long for God.

Visit www.RMDellOrfanoAuthor.com and pass it forward.