Through Hallucinations and Delirium: What Words Will I Be Repeating on My Deathbed?

Survival on the Open Sea

In the 1960s, a man named Hannes Lindemann undertook an extraordinary experiment to study human capabilities in the face of shipwreck. Lindemann, a doctor, sought to understand the psychological challenges one faces when stranded at sea. To achieve this, he embarked on a perilous journey across the Atlantic Ocean in a homemade boat carved from a tree trunk. Remarkably, Lindemann successfully navigated the treacherous waters, reaching Haiti from the coast of Africa in 119 days.

Reporters, curious about his survival, asked him what a shipwrecked person needs most to endure the ocean. Lindemann’s response was unexpected:

“The most important thing is psychological stability and faith in your own strength. In preparation for the voyage, I was thoroughly trained physically, technically, and nautically, but my psyche was vulnerable, and it is the psyche that fails faster than the body. Several times I was in such despair and panic that it’s a miracle how I survived. This question of how to give my psyche the necessary stability is what occupies me the most now.”

Lindemann’s experience revealed that people often die at sea not because of insurmountable circumstances but because they succumb to despair even when survival is possible.

Determined to test this further, Lindemann embarked on a second solo voyage across the Atlantic, this time in a flimsy folding kayak. Drawing from his first expedition, he focused extensively on psychological preparation. He developed and ingrained several crucial mantras in his mind:

• I can do it!
• Do not give up!
• Keep going west!

These mantras were vital. During one terrifying night, a storm capsized his kayak, and clinging to the overturned hull, Lindemann repeated his internalized affirmations—”I can do it” and “don’t give up”—which sustained him until calm returned. He righted the kayak at dawn and persevered.

Lindemann later wrote that the phrase “Lay west!” was pivotal during his 72-day voyage: “If I deviated from this course, I was inevitably doomed. So this alert sounded in me every minute of the day and night.”

The last 18 days of the voyage were particularly grueling. The accumulated sleep deficit became unbearable, causing him to fall asleep without realizing it. Yet, the ingrained mantra continued to work, even through delirium and hallucinations. Whenever “Lay west!” flashed through his mind, Lindemann would snap back to reality, check his compass, and correct his course. Ultimately, he achieved the impossible—crossing the Atlantic alone in a kayak.

Navigating Life’s Storms with Unceasing Prayer

Around the same time Lindemann was conquering the oceanic expanses, a monk named Hegumen Nikon (Vorobyev) lived in Russia. He possessed the gift of unceasing prayer, which he meticulously concealed from everyone. His secret only became known by accident. Once, while bathing in a steambath, Father Nikon felt so unwell that he lost consciousness. He was carried into the house, and those around him were astonished to hear Hegumen Nikon, still unconscious, continuously reciting the prayer: “Lord, Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

I am not comparing Lindemann’s autotraining with the noetic prayer of Orthodox ascetics. They are fundamentally different, except for one aspect: both Lindemann’s formulas and Hegumen Nikon’s prayer were means of salvation. The German sailor and doctor sought to save himself from the terrifying elements and his own despair, while the Russian monk aimed to save himself from eternal death.

Lindemann relied on the strength of his body and trained psyche. Hegumen Nikon relied on God, who is merciful and loves us all.

This reflection brings me to a personal realization: I am unskilled in prayer. Although I do not plan to traverse oceans in a kayak, I will, inevitably, face death someday. Observations from priests reveal that dying often involves delirium; people may seem to interact with unseen entities or speak incoherently, alas, often not with words of prayer.

Given this, I ponder my own mortality. Perhaps, like many, I will depart this life with a clouded mind, unable to engage in continuous prayer as Hegumen Nikon did. However, I can still frequently recite, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” My hope is that, in my final moments, when physical and mental faculties decline, these sacred words might pierce through the confusion, guiding me steadfastly until the end.

Translated by The Catalogue of Good Deeds
Source: https://foma.ru/skvoz-gallyutsinatsii-i-bred.html