Pain and the light of compassion

Pain as spiritual teacher is a concept I have been exploring for a number of years. I was introduced to the idea of pain holding a sacred message by Quaker healer John Calvi and was riveted by its truth.

More recently, I have been co-creating and leading a series of workshops on the topic with a trusted friend and healer. We both have lived with chronic pain and I had thought of her over the years. When I finally approached her about a year-and-a-half ago, she said "I was wondering when you'd ask." We have spent those 18 months plotting, planning, researching and devising such a strong mix of our skills, experience and gifts. We know this is right, but we have yet to reach the right audience. We've been seeking those in chronic pain ready to take a deeper approach. Typically that doesn't happen until you've exhausted traditional avenues.

So now, we're questioning everything. Should we omit the world spiritual? Is the idea of linking pain and anger just too much for people? Where can we go directly to those in pain? Should we find a compatible sponsor to pay for those attending and in pain.

In this mode, Renee suggested we explain what we're doing as if to a second grader. "Oh you mean an elevator speech of sorts?" I asked. "No, not to adults, but at a kids' level."

And I have been toying with that, getting at the root of what we do. It's been an interesting journey that's heading somewhere like this:

Pain as Spiritual Teacher is a series of workshops where people talk, play, create, share and think about the meaning of the pain in their life. The point is that pain always has a reason for showing up, but we’re too busy trying to cover it up to listen or recognize this.

Two people who live with pain want to help others in pain discover what they have: there is a spiritual side to living with constant pain that helps us manage our lives better. By doing exactly the opposite of what our culture tells us to do, which is run from or numb the pain, we can listen to the pain, learn its language and decipher its message. This gives us power and control and opens us from the tightness and isolation of ignoring or fighting pain.

We want to dive into the psychological side to find the silver lining. If we can find meaning, or a new direction or perspective, we can be more accepting of our condition and closer to peacefulness. When we deny our pain, we add to our suffering. When we understand it, we lessen our suffering. When we employ compassion, we make great leaps away from suffering.

That still sounded too adult, so I went deeper and simpler:

Our world teaches us to run away from pain.

If you have a headache, you take an aspirin.

If you’re bleeding, you get a band-aid.

If you have the flu, you get medicine.

We learn to take or do things to hide the pain. Some people live with constant pain that does not go away with an aspirin, band-aid or medicine. Sometimes they try riskier things to make it go away. Sometimes doctors will tell them there is nothing else to do or that the pain is imaginary. It is not. Pain is supposed to tell us something, a signal from the brain that something is wrong or not working in our body. If we cover it up and don’t listen, how are we supposed to know what it is telling us?

Two women became friends because of their pain and helped each other learn to listen. They still have pain, but they understand better.

Here's what my pain says to me:

• You’ve overdone it

• You’re not doing things for the right reason

• You are fighting yourself

• You need to be who you are, not who you think you should be

• You are beautiful as you are

• You are not your pain

• You are loved regardless

• You have life and a purpose

That may sound as if it has nothing to do with physical pain, but as webmd.com pointed out "when chronic pain sets in, your life shrinks to fit your pain." Self compassion often gets cut out.

So easily, we can fall into letting our pain define us. I find that less true if I meet it head on and really look at what it is signaling. Some of the fighting yourself stems from the comparison to who I was before the pain, what I could do then and how I am limited now. So much of that is unconscious.

What we're really striving to do is help people become aware of unconscious messages in a playful, safe manner and, most importantly, in community. Pain does isolate. An understanding community is crucial to managing chronic pain. So many of us quit talking about it to our families and friends because we feel like a broken record that no one listens because they do not share this experience. We bury it deep and try to suck it up and move on, which really causes suffering.

This work excites both of us and we are open to ideas for what to do with what we feel we have been given. Prayers, of course, are always welcome.

• What is my experience of pain?

• How do I handle it?

• Have I ever listened to it?

• What response have I received from others?

• What could it be like to find a community that listens, understand and helps me move forward?

we are bodily creatures

and want to experience

pleasure, not pain

so when it persists,

we really have

no roadmap

except numbness

and denial

pushing any

meaning as

deep as possible

in the darkness

it festers

but if we

shine the light

of compassion

we open

ourselves

to Truth and

much less suffering

Listen to this post:

Community of strangers

And I thought I was teaching. Saturday, they arrived in a steady stream with enough space between to begin to get to know them, their pain and stories. I had been prepping for this event for weeks with my new partner, and years before that.

As often happens, I had not counted on receiving so much from a group I was helping facilitate. Yet, that's what transpires when you invite Spirit in with the intention of deep community.

We laughed, cried, ate, played, turned inside, shared and learned together. We may have entered as strangers, but we didn't leave that way – at least not from my perspective, even if we never meet again.

This courageous group opened me and provided community I had been missing without knowing. Mostly I have experienced my pain in isolation, sharing with immediate family and close friends. But, honestly, they have no inkling of this journey. I tend to put it away on a shelf when not dealing directly with the pain. Nobody really wants to hear about it, except God. And this group.

It was as if we could not believe it was ok to talk about what we experience, including our darker thoughts. The ones that typically remain unspoken for fear of being misunderstood. 

This group certainly got it. They live it, daily. For over three hours, we vacillated among discussion, one-on-one conversations, prompts, journaling, playful and interior activities aimed at confronting our pain and seeking its spiritual messages. For most, it seemed the only path with the promise of real answers and transformation, though certainly not the first path for many of us. Seems we've reached a place of desiring understanding and not necessarily healing because of so many false promises. I can't say I've had the surgeries and hardware others have, but I know all too well the disappointment of a shiny new therapy, test or drug promised to work.

We all seemed to share the idea that we are less than. Chronic pain can do that. But I suspect we had some of that in us before the pain. Yet, hearing another person verbally articulate those feelings broke my isolation. One wise soul shared that she had learned to become her own best friend.

I felt normal for having such an inconsistent life and ability to work because they live similarly. I am more patient with my lengthy morning routine, grateful that I can get out of bed and into the gym or studio.  It was as if Spirit blew in a breath of fresh air, helping me see there is connection even in pain.

I came home and crashed. Frustrating, but not unexpected because I typically can not count on performing major activities back to back. My partner was down two days with a temperature. Yesterday, we e-mailed each other from bed. It seemed so pathetic as to be funny. Humor was another common element in Saturday's group. We laughed more than anything else – a rich and welcome surprise!

There's still some processing to do and program tweaking, follow-ups and prepping for the next session, but I suspect this group will be in my heart for a very long time. Isn't it amazing whom Spirit randomly seems to pull together?

• When have I felt accompanied and understood among strangers?
• What bound us?
• What is my experience of receiving when I thought I was giving?
• When have strangers marked my heart?
• Whom has Spirit randomly pulled into my life?


Thought I was
SO organized

everything neatly
packed and in
the trunk

ready to
transform
the room into

a colorful
splurge of
playing with pain

yet I forgot
my latest art
piece, a rainbow
pain meter

my partner gently
encouraged me to
get past it and
move on

into Spirit's lively
flow of reaching
down deep with
patience, humor
and tenderness into
our pain and tapping
the places we
all share

building

a community of
strangers 

Listen to this post:

Dreams, ego and gratitude

Embrace/pastel & paint on paper

My night was punctuated with waking and a disturbing dream, one I feel compelled to share:

I went to the meetinghouse [my Quaker church] one morning to see if I could rectify that Ministry and Counsel had not gotten my grant application. People – no one I recognize from real life, but they seemed like people I knew – were busy putting plates around the table, so I took one and sat down across from the clerk. When I’d mentioned that I’d put my application in the appropriate mailbox and wondered why my request had not been considered, he countered, saying he’d once put an invitation for a loaf of bread in mine and never even heard a thank you, then huffed off and took my plate, indicating that he was done with me. I was stupefied because I didn’t even know I had a mailbox there. I took another empty plate and was not going to be dismissed. There was a sympathetic presence next to me, but he didn’t say or do much, though I felt encouraged. After this scene, several people chimed in about the faults of my ministry and how I was only trying to do this or that (to gain attention). It all caught me off guard and seemed petty. Then, I awoke, confused and fearful.

I know where this originated: in my fear of really going through such a process and discovering, yesterday, that part of the grant had been misplaced. I thought I had gone to bed at peace, leaving it in Spirit’s hands.

After waiting the appropriate amount of time this morning to call the actual clerk, he pleasantly told me everything had been found and my request had been recommended for approval to the next and final level!

So where does this leave the dream? As part of my surrender, I believe. A few weeks ago God asked me to lay down on the pew of another Quaker Meetinghouse and surrender [it]. After argument from my ego, I did. Ever since, I have been learning what to surrender and this dream seems to be teaching me to let go of the fear of rejection and claim my gifts and myself.

Piece by piece, it is teaching me:

Dream: I went to the meetinghouse [my Quaker church] one morning to see if I could rectify that Ministry and Counsel had not gotten my grant application.

My Interpretation: By taking things into my own hands, I am not trusting or being patient.

Dream: People – no one I recognize from real life, but they seemed like people I knew – were busy putting plates around the table, so I took one and sat down across from the clerk.

My Interpretation: I invited myself into this process and felt confident and comfortable enough to take my place across from the clerk. There was room for me here, but I had to have the authority to take the initiative. It wasn’t offering itself to me; it required confident action.

Dream: When I’d mentioned that I’d put my application in the appropriate mailbox and wondered why my request had not been considered, he countered, saying he’d once put an invitation for a loaf of bread in mine and never even heard a thank you, then huffed off and took my plate, indicating that he was done with me.

My Interpretation: I am only thinking from my perspective, which may be uninformed. I did not know I had my own mailbox. Indeed, there was a place for me there even if not clearly explained. An offering of welcome and sustenance had been made. One I had neither noticed nor for which I had expressed gratitude. Perhaps my niavete looked like a dismissal and ruffled some feathers.

Dream: I was stupefied because I didn’t even know I had a mailbox there.

My Interpretation: At once I am angry that no one told me, but excited that I seem part of the community by having a mailbox. I do have a way to communicate with this group.

Dream: I took another empty plate and was not going to be dismissed.

My Interpretation: As I am learning the ropes of how this community operates, I will continue to be part of it. I won’t back away out of timidity or feeling less than.

Dream: There was a sympathetic presence next to me, but he didn’t say or do much, though I felt encouraged.

My Interpretation: I think this represents God’s presence with me at all times. Sometimes, to the point I hardly notice. I am not alone.

Dream: After this scene, several people chimed in about the faults of my ministry and how I was only trying to do this or that (to gain attention).

My Interpretation: This chorus was only echoing my doubts.

Dream: It all caught me off guard and seemed petty.

My Interpretation: Externally, I had not known these thoughts were brewing. When exposed, they seemed ridiculous.

This dream aligns with a conversation I had with my shamanic counselor two days earlier. We agreed that Spirit is asking me to surrender my ego and its high time I got out from under it’s oppressive vision of me as less than.

He made me repeat:

I am enough.                                                                                                                       I have enough.                                                                                                                     I have things to say and teach.                                                                                         I surrender. I surrender.

Thank you dream

for helping me to understand.

Thank you Spirit

for being so patient with me and

showing me the way, one step at a time.

That I can manage; otherwise, I’d freeze

in total fear.

Thank you faith community

for honoring my place among you

and supporting my ministry.

Thank you

for life.

• How has a dream opened new meaning for me?

• What happens when my fears are exposed to light?

• What’s my greatest fear of being in community?

• How have I been shown my value in community?

• Am I sure to express my gratitude?

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