Whenever I experience physical pain I make use of it. One way is to ask: What is this pain teaching me? What have I rejected – what negative feeling, what fear have I rejected that is now manifesting as this physical pain? I then sit quietly and allow time and space for an answer. I don’t analyze or think it out. If I do not receive a specific answer I let go of the need for an answer. At some point, maybe when I least expect it, an insight, a knowing, shows up in my mind.
Whatever emotion has been rejected I let it show up. I accept it. I embrace it. I surround it with love. This process can be effective whether I am in pain or when the pain has receded.
Several years ago I found this method to be helpful in dealing with pain from Shingles. For six weeks I sat up every night with extreme pain that ran from my right foot up to my lower back. It was as if the nerves in my leg were being fried. I could only sleep for a short while sitting, then the pain would awaken me. I tried some prescription drugs in order to get some sleep, but none were effective. In the daytime the pain would ease up, and I could function somewhat.
Sometimes I would go to a happier place in my mind. Most nights I would dive into the pain. My ability to deal with pain strengthened. Often I achieved the state of not minding. During the day. I sat still and asked: “What feelings have I rejected that are now manifesting as this physical pain called Shingles?”
After a few attempts answers emerged. The first answer was: I am unloved. My response to that was: So what? I don’t expect everyone to love me. I asked: Why am I unloved. The next answer was the one I was looking for: Because you are unlovable.
This was a surprise because I thought I had worked out that feeling a long time ago. I had worked out those feelings, but this experience showed me there was more to let go. As Dr. David Hawkins wrote: “There is more until there isn’t.”
Rather than analyze I stepped back and reflected on my way of being over the years. Images appeared in my mind of me literally shrinking physically, occupying less physical space in moments when I felt unlovable, unworthy, or less than. I noticed tone changes in my voice. Then there was the critical voice in my head berating me for mistakes I had made. This was my Aha moment where it all made sense. I had rejected these feelings, hidden them from myself, but they still existed.
Over time they became the physical pain I experienced called Shingles. Once I zeroed in on the feelings of being unlovable/unworthy I sat with those feelings. No more rejection or repression. I let myself feel unlovable and unworthy. I focused my attention on the feeling itself, the sensations in my body, the physical tendencies toward shrinking. I observed these feelings and I accepted them. No judgment.
As the feelings ran their course I embraced them, surrounded them in love. I embraced the unloved child within me and gave him all my love. I went through this process of accepting and embracing several times. It changed me. I began to feel more loved, acceptable, worthy. There were moments when feelings of being unlovable would be triggered, but I recognized them immediately and chose not to go in that direction. I had broken the habit of being my unlovable self.
After six weeks the Shingles symptoms healed, and I was able to lie in bed at night and to sleep. It felt like such a luxury. People have asked me since then: “Don’t you wish you’d had the vaccine?” My answer is always: “No. Shingles was one of the most important events of my life. I am happy and grateful I experienced it.”
A few years later I injured my right leg playing basketball (Same leg as Shingles) . Someone ran into me while I was making a layup. I ended up on the floor with my right foot at a 45 degree angle. Ligaments were strained and torn from my foot almost to my knee. No bones were broken. I wore a boot and used crutches for eight weeks. Although it was painful, I didn’t mind. My focus was on healing and on paying attention to what the experience had to teach me.
I was at a local grocery store about to ladle soup into a bowl for takeout. A beautiful woman approached me and asked: “May I help you with that?” In the past my usual answer would have been “No thanks. I’m okay.” I stopped myself and gratefully accepted her offer. She ladled my soup into the paper bowl, put a top on it, and placed it in a bag. It reminded me of a Japanese tea ceremony. It happened slowly, deliberately, and it was beautiful. I thanked her.
Another day I was putting air into a tire on my car standing on one leg. Another beautiful woman approached and offered to help. I thanked her. In these two instances I had the opportunity to allow myself to receive care from human beings I didn’t even know. I don’t need to do everything myself. That was the lesson. The feeling that I am isolated and not supported had still been within me. I am not separate, and I am supported. It is, after all, an illusion that you succeed all by yourself.
Whatever you accomplish in life, there are always people who have helped. Pain is a great teacher. I use every negative emotion, every physical injury or ailment, as a teaching opportunity. In order to let go we need to face and feel what hurts, whether it is physical or emotional. We seek treatment, sometimes medicine, and we do what we need to do for recovery. There is a parallel path of awareness and reflection where we can learn what the pain is telling us. Every discomfort and every kind of pain is a doorway to transformation.
