Feeling Joy without arrogance

I finished a treatment last week and smiled. It was a good treatment: there was a lot of power in the room, I had felt a very clear disharmony in the patient's cranial rhythms and was able to return it to proper functioning, and the client was one who I had a personal stake in the treatment's success. It was a patient who is well connected in the local community and I knew that if I was able to give him a successful treatment, it could directly benefit my business.

When the patient left the room, I pumped my fist and smiled a broad smile and said "I did it!" Then I paused and checked in on myself. I hadn't done it. God had done it. The power, the clear vision, the healing the patient felt happened as a result of God working through me, and working directly on the patient. But here I was taking credit for it.

I'm a person who has long struggled with arrogance. In my youth, I think it was a defense mechanism: if I was better than everyone else, then I didn't need to work hard or measure myself by their measures. So if I failed at something, it wouldn't matter to me. Like most things, I think it was generated out of fear. In particular, a fear of not being the best - of not succeeding. So rather than trying and failing, I found a way to convince myself that I didn't need to try. And then, if I failed, I could always say that I failed because I didn't try, but if I had tried, I could have succeeded. I know now that it did matter a great deal to me, but back then I didn't have the tools to succeed, so I fashioned an attitude which allowed me to fail and not feel bad about it. It was neat little knot I had tied myself in.

These days, I'm always worried that the arrogance will come back. So when I find myself taking too much credit for a good treatment, I feel the need to do some introspection. The first place I look is at my fears. I knew there was a small fear that my business wouldn't succeed, but that's always there. I think that I need that fear of business failure needed to keep me motivated to keep working on my business.

There was also the fear that I am not a good practitioner. Again, the fear of not being proficient is necessary to keep me growing. But what I saw was that alongside this fear was my Yetzer haRah (urge to self-destruction). The fear opened a small place inside me when the Yetzer HaRah started telling me to beat myself up over taking joy in a good treatment.

It was an interesting energetic thing - I was not criticizing myself for the quality of my treatment, I was going after myself for my reaction to the treatment. The patient received a good treatment. His symptoms were lessened, and he was in a much better place when he left then when he came.

My feeling on how to overcome the Yetzer HaRah is to be aware of it. I haven't found a lot of traditional sources for ways to deal with it energetically. Most places simply talk about suppressing it or overcoming it, but not much on how to actually do that. I treat it much the same as fear: know when it's present and be aware of it. Then you can decided to listen or not to listen to it, but it no longer has any power over you.

In this case, it was trying to lead me down an old path so that I get caught up in myself and stop moving forward. There is no fault in taking joy in a job well done as long as I realize my role in the treatment and don't take credit for the parts in which I had no part. The tricky part is that this moment can lead me down two opposite bad directions: either getting arrogant and taking all the credit for the treatment, or taking no credit at all and beating myself up for feeling joy. The delicate middle path is where I ended up, but I had to sort out where the energies and inclinations were coming from.

My next post will be about the role of the healer in the healing which was also a result of the same moment as this post.

The tensions that move us forward

I've been thinking more about the Ba'al Shem Tov's tips for perpetual growth - sowing tears and harvesting joy (though he really just focuses on the tears). I have been taught that one of the differences between Judaism and many eastern religions is that in Judaism there is no concept of becoming enlightened. In Judaism, there is a dynamic tension created between the world as it is and the world as it could be. We are always trying to find ways to do tikkun in the world, and, more importantly, on ourselves. The Ba'al Shem Tov is outlining one of the methods for using that tension to continue to grow.

(As a side note, the goal of all of this tikkun is to repair the world so that the messiah can come. My personal feeling is that when the messiah gets here, no one will notice. We will bring about the messianic age bit by bit and tear by tear. We repair the world slowly, as we repair ourselves gradually. There will be no huge event when the messiah comes, no great jump forward, he will just show up and, God willing, be like everyone else. The messiah is not a person who will come to save us, we will save ourselves and thus bring the messiah to us.)

I have been spending some time looking at my life and seeing the tensions that drive me forward. I am old enough to start seeing patterns in my behavior and to see that many issues in my life return after I thought I had dealt with them. I have changed my focus now in how I follow the patterns of my life. What I am looking for now is the tensions that create those issues. A clear example is my marriage. I can see the differences between my wife and I that create friction, but they also drive us to deepen and strengthen our relationship. Though the will probably never be resolved, they push us both forward to become better people.

I would suggest to everyone to take a moment and consider the recurrent issues in your lives, and then examine the tensions that create those issues. Are there tensions that create growth? Are there tensions that create self-destructive behavior? Are there tensions in which you get to choose a nourishing or a destructive path? The next step is to strengthen the tensions that force us to grow, and get out of the destructive ones. The goal is not to become enlightened, but to meet the tensions with wisdom and grow from them. To give power to those things which help us to do Tikkun, and take the power away from those things that lead us to Yetzer ha-Rah (evil inclination).

Mishnah Berachot 5:5 - R. Hanina's Healing

There is a very interesting mishnah about healing found in Berachot mishnah 5:5 (translation is mine):

Some who prays and makes a mistake: it's a bad sign for him. If the prayer leader [shaliah tzibur – emissary of the public] makes a mistake, it's a bad sign for all who are led because those who send an emissary are just like him. It's it said of rabbi Hanina ben Dosa that when he would pray for the sick, he would then say: this one will live, and this one will die. The said to him: From where do you know? He said to them: if the prayer is fluent in my mouth, and I know that it will be received, but if not, I know he will be consumed by the illness [literally torn apart or devoured].

My first response to this was of course that's how it is. If R. Hanina was connected to God, he will know when his prayers are having an effect and when they aren't. By connecting to the sick person and then praying, he knows if the person can heal or not.

I had a teacher in school who described a certain type of pulse that indicated that the patient would die in the next few days, and that he had felt this pulse in the past and the patient did pass away soon after. When I asked another teacher about it, he described a different pulse, but said it doesn't work that way in reality, only in theory. I asked a third teacher, and she said that was bunk, she'd worked on terminal patients who died shortly after she saw them and she felt nothing in the pulse. My conclusion was that the first teacher had a gift for knowing when a person would die, and the tool he used for it was the pulse.

Similarly, R. Hanina had a gift for knowing when a person would recover or die, and the tool he used was how well his prayer for the patient came out of mouth.

People have different “tells” for when the spirit world is communicating with them. When I started this work, my tell was pressure on the left side of my head. Whenever there was spiritual energy in the room, my head would feel like someone was pressing on the side. Others feel it in different places in their bodies, or they just know. After a while, I learned to distinguish between my imagined or internal feelings, and those that were connected to the spirit world. At first I relied solely on my “tell”, but after a while, I started to recognize the qualitative difference in my feelings.

R. Hanina's “tell” was how well his mouth worked when he said the prayer. The text asks "From where do you know this?" R. Hanina answer is a response to this question, and he is telling us about his indicator or "tell" for his receiving a message from the spirit world and God. It is unclear if is when he said the prayer itself or just the person's name, though he knew that if he stumbled during one of them, the prognosis was poor.

Praising the growing, not the growth

From the Sefer Ba'al Shem Tov , Mishpatim 16.
Below is my translation and then my interpretation.

It is based on Psalm 126:

(1) A Song of ascents.
When the lord restores the fortunes of Zion
--We see it as a dream --
(2) our mouths shall be filled with laughter,
our tongues, with songs of joy.
Then shall they say among the nations,
"The Lord has done great things for them!"
(3) The Lord will do great things for us,
and we shall rejoice

(4) Restore our fortunes, O Lord,
Like waterways in the Negev.
(5) They who sow in tears
Shall reap with songs of joy.
(6) though he goes along weeping,
carrying the seed bag (or spreading the seeds he carries),
he shall come back with songs of joy,
carrying his sheaves.

The Ba'al Shem Tov teaches:

If he walks from [spiritual] step to [spiritual] step and desires to achieve more, he is really like the Ayn Sof (without end - a name of God) in that there is no end to his potential. Thus is the man who has the attribute to obtain the stream that comes from Ayn Sof.

But the man who says I have enough in what I can learn. This is not success only straw and hay which are klipot (shells - spiritual blocks).

And the explanation of the verse: "(6) though he goes along weeping" is that it says that if he wants to walk from [spiritual] step to [spiritual] step then all that he has obtained is already not enough for him. This is the "carrying/spreading the seed bag," that Ayn Sof has given him.

Thus someone who says "He shall come back", as if he has already been to top of the steps, and he is in "joy" all the time. And who says my soul is at peace because he has learned a lot of Torah, and doesn't need any more. This is "carrying his sheaves", and they are nothing but straw and hay.


My interpretation is more cyclic. You need to keep walking, keep searching for knowledge. Keep spreading and sowing seeds to rise up from step to step. Otherwise, in the passage of time, you will be left with only the fruits of the harvest - straw and hay. Because if you stop planting, the straw and hay will soon be used up or be blown away. And you will be left with nothing.

The cycle is sown with tears and harvested with joy. To grow, we need to look to our tears. To find the frustrations and short-comings in our learning and practice so we can grow. If not, we will soon find ourselves surrounded with only dead straw, with no young plants to nourish us in the future.

When a person is always happy, he is not moving forward. Each challenge in life follows this cycle: we get frustrated with ourselves about something so we work hard to grow in the area. At some point, something happens to make us realize how much we have grown and find we are no longer frustrated in the same way. A wise person meets their problems with wisdom and grows. A fool doesn't engage in their problems and doesn't grow. A wise person welcomes the cycle of tears and joy, but looks for the tears always knowing that there is further to go.

I am reminded of an article on how to praise children by Carol Dweck. She would say that one should praise oneself and others for the process of growing, for the tears, rather than for the accomplishment, the joy. I think the Ba'al Shem Tov would subscribe to her philosophy - he praises us in the teaching above for always striving to be better, not for the success in having grown.

After a Spiritual Journey: Bread and Wine

I heard a wonderful teaching today from my teacher Avraham: according to Jewish tradition, when a person returns from a mercavah journey, having visited the heavenly palaces, and stood in the presence of God, the best thing to do is to eat and drink.

To me, this is pure technique: when someone has been meditating deeply or journeying, one of the best ways to ground oneself and bring oneself fully back to the physical world is to eat.

In Genesis 15:18, during the meeting of Avraham Avinu and King Melchizedek of Salem, we are told that "Malchizedek of Salem brought out bread and wine". He then gives Avraham avinu a blessing.

Another story Avraham my teacher relayed was of a Hasidic rabbi who was known to rise up to the heavenly realm during prayer. He had a hasid (disciple) who's job it was to hand the Rabbi bread and butter when he finished praying so that he could return fully to this world.

I believe there is another textual source, but haven't been able to find it yet. I'll post when I do.

Gevurot Geshamim

Sometimes it seems that I am led to certain topics. The latest is Gevurot Geshamim, גבורות גשמים, the strength/powers of the rain. At the end of Sukkkot, we change the rain prayer we say twice during the Amidah from blessings to rain.

The prayer occurs twice. The first time is during the prayer for reviving the dead, מחיה המתים, and the second is during the prayer for a good year. The Talmudic explanation for this is because when the rains come it is like reviving the dead. I remember being in the Negev desert many years ago and watching what I thought was a dead branch start to sprout immediately after the rains. There are certain plants in the desert that remain dormant for years and then come to life after the rains. Thus the rains can easily be understood as bringing life to the dead.

Interestingly, during this prayer, we mention the rains, but don't request any. Later, during the prayer for a good year, we specifically ask for a blessing during the summer, and dew and rain during the winter. In any land, rain is essential to agriculture, and too much or too little rain can determine who lives and who dies in the coming year.

Traditionally there are three things for which God alone is responsible: creating life (babies), reviving the dead, and the rains. This leads to very interesting discussions about the effect of modern technology on human power to effect those three things, but in my mind we are still technicians. For all the medical advances in IVF, we still have no idea how life is created. We can help it along, but if it works or not is far beyond us. We can predict the rain, but we have no control over it. We've just gotten better at observing what God does, not influencing it. Though human actions do seem to have an effect on the climate, we are just a small part of a very big system.

My question here is really about the term Gevurot Geshamim. In one sense it could mean just the strength of the rains meaning that we want strong rains and not just a drizzle. In another term, it might mean the power to cause the rain to fall. In that light, I called the soul of Honi the circler who was a Talmudic figure who actually did cause it to rain.

The last time I talked to him about this, he showed me that he could connect to the weather and influence in much the same way that I heal clients. If God meant for it to rain, then he was able to help that process happen, and if God did not, there was nothing he could do.

This time, he showed me how to connect to the energy of clouds. They felt very scattered, like touching something that has a form but very little substance. The process of helping the rain was one of filling the clouds so that they became fuller, more dense. When the cloud became too "pregnant" with energy, the rain would come forth. I practiced it awhile, connecting to God and then connecting to the clouds, though I don't think I'm much good at it. And it is very humbling to realize how little power one have over this process. The analogy that comes to mind is of pushing a truck. If you are going downhill, it will roll with your help, but if you are trying to push it uphill, there's not much you can do. Maybe the strength of the rains is the strength to push that truck?

I need to do some more study on this topic, so hopefully will write more in the future. I suspect also that this is one of those topics in Judaism which energetically comes up every year around this time, so if I don't get back to it soon, I'll probably be back next year about this time.

Knowing when to Heal

I heard a wonderful story last night told in the name of R. Shlomo Carlibach.

A barren couple went to a famous rabbi in a neighboring village who was known as a great tzaddik. They asked the rabbi for a blessing to enable them to have children. After they had received the blessing, the rabbi's gabbai (assistant), with great confidence, told the couple that in a year they would be back to visit with a new baby.

Sure enough, a year later, word came to the rabbi that the couple had just given birth to a baby boy and requesting that the rabbi please come for the great honor of being the Sandak during the bris (the person who holds the baby while it is being circumcized).

On the day of the Bris, the rabbi and his gabbai set out for the bris. As they were traveling through a field, a storm came upon them suddenly. The rain came down in buckets and the wind was blowing fiercely, so much so that they needed to stop and take shelter. The Gabbai grew worried that they would not be able to reach the bris in time and the rabbi would not be able to fulfill this honor. So he began to pray that the rain would stop and the wind would cease.

Sure enough, soon after the gabbai started to pray, the storm stopped just as suddenly as it had come, and they were able to continue to the Bris. The Gabbai was amazed and impressed that his prayers had been answered so quickly, but the rabbi did not even acknowledge them. For the whole celebration, and on the way home, the rabbi remained stern and did not acknowledge or thank the Gabbai for what he had done.

As they arrived back in their own village, the Gabbai could bear it no longer and spoke to the rabbi, "Didn't you see what I did? Why don't you thank me for stopping the rain and wind so that we could make it to the bris?"

The rabbi looked at the Gabbai sadly and said, "Do you know why it was raining? So that the village would have enough water to grow their crops and quench their thirst. It's been a very dry year. Do you know why the wind blew so hard? There is a swarm of locusts heading this way, but the wind would have prevented them from coming and eating all the crops. Now that you stopped the rain and the wind, you have caused immeasurable harm to the village."

The story was told to me with the moral that if one doesn't understand why things are happening, then it's best not to interfere with them. This is a common theme among Jewish folktales, that something that appears bad is actually for the good, and it's just our lack of perspective that makes it appear bad. The story was told to me in the context of a discussion on healing, and knowing when to heal and when not to.

I see the gabbai's mistake as threefold: he wanted the rain to stop for the benefit of the rabbi, not the benefit of God, he did it partly to stoke his own ego (and demonstrated by his disappointment that his deed went unnoticed), and he failed to see the benefit of the rain. So what does this teach us about healing?

Always check one's motivation. What is the involvement of the healer's ego in the healing? Sometimes I find that I have a patient, who, for whatever reason, I want to impress. It could be that I hold the person in respect. It could be that I view that patient as a potential source of referrals and I know that a good treatment will benefit my business. It could be that I'm having a bad day and want to show myself what a great healer I am by making this person feel immensely better.

In those times, I try to force the situation and the flow of energy, and invariably, it's a terrible treatment. Not only am I assured of making the person feel worse, but I am assured of not getting the referrals, respect or self-flattery I was looking for. If I had been aware that I was making the treatment about my own ego and not about the patient, I would have been able to look inside myself and see that my fears had caused me to attach so strongly to the results of the treatment.

I have fears: that I'm a bad healer, that my business won't succeed, or that I will lose the respect of the patient. When I am able to change my relationship to those fears, then I am able to let go of the results and provide a good treatment.

I can't emphasize how much fear damages the connection to God. When people talk about annulment of ego, my feeling is that if one works on one's fears, then the ego loses power and slowly disappears on it's own. Trying to suppress the ego on it's own has always been a fruitless exercise for me, but after I changed my relationship to fear, the ego issues quieted on their own.

Another lesson is is to remember God's place in the healing. I am not a seer, so by the rabbi in the story's words, I should stop healing. I often have no idea why a person is sick or how that sickness fits into the world. But I know that if a client has ended up in my office, then it's my responsibility to do everything I can for them. My assumption is that if God caused our two paths to intersect, then I am supposed to work on them, but I know that I can't force things. I connect to the client and I connect to God and I see what happens. Sometimes that means interacting with, and forcing energy to change, sometimes it means creating a healing space for the client to do their work in which I have no role other than to sit there and watch. Sometimes it means that nothing happens (though that is rare at this point). But if I am connected to God then I can feel what is the best way for healing. If I'm not connected, then I risk harm.

My ultimate barometer of the treatment is how the client feels at the end. I know that there are times when he/she won't feel better or even feel a difference, but I can feel changes in them: their pulse is stronger, there energy is more present, or they are more connected to themselves. And when they come back the next week, I'll hear about the results of the treatment because the client's often take a few days to fully process the treatment.

In acupuncture school we were taught to look at barriers to healing, meaning reasons why the patient themselves does not want to heal. One of the big ones was that the patient was receiving some kind of benefit from the sickness: sympathy, lack of certain responsibilities, someone to care for them, or something similar. This has its own feel when I encounter it in the office. The patient actively resists my energy and the connection that I create between the two of us. Or they try to take control of the treatment and don't let themselves be nourished by the treatment. At this point, my response is to back off my energy as far as possible. And then just wait. When they see that I am not trying to interfere, but just to connect, their energy will reach out to me and we can connect. Or we don't.

I once had a patient with whom I tried to force a connection and force the healing while she was actively resisting it. She felt wonderful immediately after the treatment and I felt like I had really accomplished something. She left the treatment room, tripped on the stairs on her way out of the building, and called me three days later to cancel her next appointment because her ankle was really badly sprained. I didn't hear from her again.

I think that the Gabbai should have just prayed to God. His fear wanted the rain to stop, so that's what he prayed for. But a better way would have been to connect to God and then pray that they get to the bris. He gave his fear of missing the bris power, and as such, missed out on the connection to God. When his fear's prayer was answered, his ego took hold and gave him pride in what he had done. If he had felt the fear, not given it power, and then prayed for what he really wanted, he would have clearly realized that he didn't stop the rain, God did. Or he would have known that it wasn't God's will to stop the rain, and hopefully have found another way to the Bris. Or maybe he wasn't supposed to get to the Bris at all.

If one knows him or herself, and doesn't give one's fears power, then one can maintain a connection to God. Then one can know when one is truly healing.