There's an essay by the scholar Louis Sass that I love, called "Heidegger, Schizophrenia and the Ontological Difference." It argues that it can be helpful to think of some aspects of the symptomatology of schizophrenia as involving a difference in ontology, a difference in being. This difference in being is not, to use another Heideggerian term, ontic, meaning it does not have to do with the furniture of the world, say, but rather with the world itself. To be schizophrenic is then to experience one's self at times as not only different but ontologically - because, in Sass's argument, in complicated ways solipsistically - different. And this, even if it gets at something true, I think, or real, or right, is still painful to allow, painful to swallow.
I think it is painful because, as soon as I feel myself different from others in a way that could be considered ontological, immediately I want to repair that wound, I want to shorten the distance between myself and others, I want to feel a sense of belonging. Sass goes on to do more amazing work on schizophrenia, and his work can give us a sense of belonging by looking with clarity upon what actually is involved with living with a schizophrenia-spectrum illness; but "Heidegger, Schizophrenia and the Ontological Difference" doesn't address this need for a sense of belonging too much, outside of suggesting that, equipped with a better understanding of schizophrenia through the notion of the ontological difference, we are then more likely - in a better position - to help and understand people living with schizophrenia-spectrum illnesses.
Sass is right. But it's not the end of the story, because in a way, living with a schizophrenia-spectrum illness is not an end but a beginning; and once we have acknowledged this ontological difference, we then are forced to ask, what next? Where do we go from here? How do we live our lives, everyday, with this illness? And when we come to questions like that, about the illness and the everyday, about time and belonging, I think we find that the later Heidegger, as opposed to the Heidegger of Being and Time, can give us insight into these questions.
How does the later Heidegger give us insight into these questions? There is a concept in Heidegger's late body of work, which is called "dwelling," and it is a concept that I think we can apply helpfully and therapeutically to a person living with an ontological difference or, to use Clara Humpston's terms, living with "ontologically impossible experiences." Dwelling as I understand it is a form of poiesis, a form of making or, in Heidegger's terms, "building." For what else can we use to describe the structure of our lives? We build our lives, and we dwell within our lives, and perhaps the greatest poiesis we give to the world is our lives, including the work we do during our lives. If building our lives means dwelling in a real sense, contentfully, within our lives, then dwelling implies belonging and care. And belonging and care are not things we simply assume; they are, rather, things we build into our lives, build out of our lives.
Last night, I had dinner with my dad. We have dinner together on most Friday nights, light Shabbat candles, say the prayer over the challah and wine, and eat dinner together. Usually when I arrive I greet him, or he greets me, at the front door, we hug each other and walk inside. But yesterday I was early, so my dad arrived ten minutes later and we walked into the house through the garage entrance. In the vestibule outside the kitchen, my dad took off his winter boots, and put on some slippers. And as I watched him do this, I realized that I was witnessing a ritual, not unlike lighting the candles or saying the prayers, that allowed him to move from one space into another space, from one dwelling into another dwelling. It was a ritual that allowed him to feel more human, more content, more at home in the world. It made total sense.
When I came home, and talked to my friend online, I lit a candle, and as I did so, I realized that I was also trying, through ritual, to create a dwelling in my apartment. Building a dwelling is what makes us feel most human. I can understand why some Jews say a blessing when they wash their hands, for example, because doing so enhances one's sense of dwelling, it makes the experience an experience, in Dewey's sense of the term.
I think, oftentimes, people living with schizophrenia-spectrum illnesses don't have the rituals built into their lives to help build a dwelling. They don't have the opportunity to. They might be homeless, they might be struggling with auditory hallucinations or delusions of reference, they might have poverty of thought, they might experience mania and depression. All of these experiences erode our ability to build dwellings in the world. They erode our dwelling. This is why I think it is near-sighted to argue that psychosis is a positive or liberating thing. I remember, when I left the hospital about three years ago, I had to relearn how to make eye contact with other human beings. It sounds ridiculous to say this, because so obvious, but making eye contact is an important way we dwell in the world, a way we can try and gauge if we are being understood, and if we are understanding another. I mention this about the eye contact, because I had to relearn so much. It's been three years, and I am still trying to find ways to build a dwelling in the world.
I don't think giving advice is helpful, but I can speak from my own experience that rituals, authentic rituals, and even different kinds of repetitions as habit - certain days to talk to a friend, certain times to be social, having a regular work schedule, things like that, obvious things, things we take for granted - go a very long way towards eroding that ontological difference and making us feel a sense of belonging. Late Heidegger also gives us a sense of belonging, by somehow making the everyday a legitimately sacred thing. When we experience psychosis, we experience a kind of meaning that is ontologically different. But through rituals, through building our dwellings everyday, we can return to the world of meaning and live there.
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