--- Leila <hineni@...> wrote:

> A Day In The Heart of Pain
> What Would It Be Like To Awaken To A Day With Our
> Hearts Open To Pain?
> The following is an excerpt from the book Unattended
> Sorrow: Recovering from Loss and Reviving the Heart
> by Stephen Levine
>
> Some years ago, sitting next to a fifteen-month-old
> child whose cancer had begun in her mother's womb,
> as I prayed for her life, something very deep inside
> told me to stop, that I didn't know enough to make
> such a prayer. It said that I was just
> second-guessing God. That I could not really
> comprehend what her spirit might have needed next,
> that only this pain in this fleeting body, which was
> being torn from the hearts of her loved ones, might
> teach her as she evolved toward her ceaseless
> potential. That she, like us all, was in the lap of
> the mystery, and that the only appropriate prayer
> was, "May you get the most out of this possible!"
>
> Sharing our healing, we send wishes for the
> well-being of all those who, like ourselves, find
> themselves in a difficult moment, as the heart
> whispers, "May we all get the most out of this
> possible." And we can say to ourselves, in
> appreciation of the healing potential of approaching
> with mercy and awareness that which so recently may
> have been an aversion to our situation, "May I get
> the most out of this possible."
>
> It is said that nothing is true until we have
> experienced it, so as an experiment in sending love
> where the fear is, we can use the presence of mild
> pain to test the truth of softening and sending
> mercy into an area of our body that is perhaps
> captured in the constriction of fear. Knowing that
> working with physical pain demonstrates a means of
> working with mental pain as well, we can let go of
> the tension around physical discomfort.
>
> If you watch closely, you'll notice that when you
> experience physical pain, you ostracize and isolate
> that part of yourself. You close off what is calling
> out for your help. We do the same thing with our
> grief.
>
> When you stub your toe, more than physical pain is
> generated; grief is released into the wound,
> followed by a litany of dissatisfactions and "poor
> me's," a damning of God sent heavenward. When we
> trip and fall in the darkness we are all too ready
> to curse ourselves for being so clumsy, as well as
> for not being able to hold our bladder until dawn,
> for not counting the hours in our just-expended
> 1,000-hour lightbulb, and the bruise is suffused
> with self-judgment and an irrational sense of
> responsibility.
>
> The next time you have a minor wound, such as a
> stubbed toe or bumped elbow, note how long it takes
> that wound--when you soften to it and use it as a
> focus for loving kindness--to heal. Then compare it
> with the number of days it takes a similar wound to
> heal when you turn away from it, allowing the fear
> and resistance that rushes toward it to mercilessly
> remain. Contrast the healing of an injury in the
> mind or body in which loving kindness has gradually
> gathered to one that has been abandoned.
>
> This softening and opening around pain has been
> shown in several double-blind studies to provide
> greater access of the immune system to an area of
> injury. It opens the vice of resistance into a
> never-considered acceptance of the moment. It denies
> hopelessness a home. It proves we are not helpless,
> that we can actively intercede in what we previously
> believed we had only to endure.
>
> Working with our pain, or the pain of loved ones,
> cultivates a mercy that allows us to stay one more
> moment at their bedside when we are most needed. It
> allows us to not run away.
>
>
>
>
> It takes patience to let go of doubt. So many fears
> warn us against opening beyond the numbness that
> surrounds pain. But when we allow ourselves to be
> open to and investigate these fears, we come to see
>
> As pain teaches us that fear can be penetrated by
> mercy and awareness, from some inherent knowing
> there resonates from our suffering a perfect
> teaching in compassion. We find in our pain the pain
> we all share. Softening around pain with mercy
> instead of hardening it with fear, the heart expands
> as "my' pain becomes "the" pain. Odd as it may
> sound, when we share the insights arising from our
> pain we become more able to honor the pain.
>
> Following a tributary from the personal to the
> universal, we can find in our pain the pain of
> others as well. In our own wish to be free of
> suffering, others are calling out to be freed from
> their difficulties. Finding them in ourselves, the
> loving kindness that we extend to all sentient
> beings moves Earth toward heaven.
>
> When we meet pain with mercy, there is a silent sigh
> of understanding and relief that can serve the whole
> world. There is exposed a meaning to life, a
> connection through ourselves to all others, that
> proposes a balm to the suffering in the world.
>
> Reprinted from Unattended Sorrow: Recovering from
> Loss and Reviving the Heart by Stephen Levine © 2005
> by Stephen Levine. Permission granted by Rodale,
> Inc., Emmaus, PA 18098.





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