The Gift of Pain

March 26, 2015

Glenwood - Jan - March 2008 & RLP 076 “Be sure and stay ahead of the pain.”  Words from the pharmacist years ago as I picked up yet another bottle of  addictive pain medication for my 20 year old daughter who had recently had her tonsils removed.  Being a “push through the pain” kind of girl, I asked her just what the hell that meant anyway.  It seemed to me that having the courage to tough it out was the better approach. One to be proud of and that showed the strong stuff of which I am made. “The body, when faced with the choice of dealing with the pain, or healing the injury, can only focus on one of those and, in the proper order” she replied. ” Resolve the pain. Heal the patient.” In other words healing is hindered when pain is ignored. Heading back home, I resolved to help her heal by helping her resolve her pain.

Our bodies are but a microcosm of the greater whole.  Found embodied in our relationships and in the body of the world, pain is everywhere. Close to home and in the farthest reaches of the world.  It is within our hearts and our homes, amidst our communities and countries, in the halls of our organizations and schools.  Unresolved pain is wracking our planet and threatening our shared futures large and small, and is an indication that there is healing to be done.

Pain hurts.  Deeply.  Acutely. Sharply. Chronically. Our natural reaction to pain is to avoid it.  Afraid of the hurt we react in fear, provoking ancient coping mechanisms.  Fight, flight or freeze.

Putting up our dukes and hitting back causes further injury.

Running for cover furthers us from the healing we long for, but can’t see because we are facing the wrong direction.

Hunkering down and refusing to budge drives pain deeper and healing further away.

When it comes to resolving the pain in our lives, none of those lead to the healing that is waiting for us on the other side.  Wherever the pain exists, it is calling us to attend to it fully, in order to more fully live.  It requires that we dive deeply into the pain in order to get to the bottom of it.

Pain is our call to action in order to heal that which is broken.

Pain is the canary in the mine alerting us that we are running out of air.

Pain is the lighthouse exposing the rocks which will dash our ship to pieces if we don’t steer with care.

Pain is the warning sign alerting us to dangers ahead.

Pain is the breadcrumb path that leads to wholeness.

Pain is the care package that must be unwrapped in order to receive the gift of healing.

Healing trumps holding on to old hurts.

Healing beats clinging to our stories that keep us stuck in old chapters.

Healing always outlasts winning.

Healing outshines the darkness of resentment.

Healing is a cut above the festering wounds of unforgiveness.

Healing forges wholeness out of the holes in our hearts.

Wherever the pain, it is the doorway through which healing awaits. Pain speaks the truth.  The truth sets us free.

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“When we are mindful, we notice that another person suffers. The other person may be a husband, a wife, or a child. If one person suffers, that person needs to talk to someone in order to get relief. We have to offer our presence, and we have to listen deeply to the other person who is suffering. That is the practice of love–deep listening. But if we are full of anger, irritation, and prejudices, we don’t have the capacity to listen deeply to the people we love. If people we love cannot communicate with us, then they will suffer more. Learning how to listen deeply is our responsibility. We are motivated by the desire to relieve suffering. That is why we listen. We need to listen with all our heart, without intention to judge, condemn, or criticize. And if we listen in that way for one hour, we are practicing true love. We don’t have to say anything; we just need to listen.      “The essence of love and compassion is understanding, the ability to recognize the physical, material, and psychological suffering of others, to put ourselves “inside the skin” of the other.  When we are in contact with another’s suffering, a feeling of compassion is born in us. Compassion means literally “to suffer with.”    –Thich Nhat Hanh

Thank you Quma Learning & Dennis Deaton

OPEN YOUR EYES

March 16, 2010

Linda and Jack...the perfect man!

Home-made apple pie and lots of smiles

Molly and Jack...the perfect man!

Judy of Guler and Linda of the Harbor

Our own Volcanologist...the handsome Tom of the Mountains

Jean and Candy in the SUNSHINE

Linda and Judy, sisters

Cindy at Peace

who is that woman hugging my husband?

Gathered Our Courage Together

Anna: light and spirt

The girls mixing glue stick and soup...huh oh!

Speed scrabble...endless possibilities

The MATTERS THAT MATTER W OMEN’S RETREAT.  A room filled with courageous, bright, authentic women. We ate, we danced, we drank good wine & coffee (as promised), we laughed, we cried, we drummed, we napped, we created, we learned from one another, we loved with all of our hearts and souls. Women gloriously being women. Could it get any better? Well maybe if Amy Ferris (Marrying George Clooney) could have been there!

The Un-Loving of you

February 7, 2010

The Un-Loving of You

by Kate Van Raden

I’m letting you go,
I’m giving you back,
Each bit of your self that I’ve kept…
I returned those eye brows,
and a few of your teeth,
I packed them and hummed as I wept…
I shipped off your thighs in a box with some fingers,
the larger ones only, for now…
When you asked for your shoulders
I blinked back a frown,
But I let you take them,
And some lashes I’d found.
Now, the chuckle was harder,
I was still using that
And without your soft hair,
I just can’t hang my hat
But I do understand that you need these things back
So I try to be gracious, although it’s an act.
The hard part is coming
And I know I’ll feel lost
with no way to smell,
Or to taste, or to talk…
See, I cherish your lips
still so familiar,
and your eyes that melt chocolate for me…
There’s a crook in your nose
that it’s not yours without,
and I’m starting to feel a bit empty…
At last to my treasures
high on a shelf…
to your voice and your skin and your hands,
I hoped I could keep these forever,
but your starting to list your demands…
I can’t bear to imagine the woman who gets these,
I break down each time at the thought.
They’ve been mine for so long,
I just couldn’t tell you
how I’ll go on when they’re not…
Almost nothing is left here
You’ve taken it all
so we’ve parted, I get it, I’ll go…
but I wonder if I could compel you
the compassion to leave me a toe…?
By: Kate Van Raden
http://katevanraden.wordpress.com/