Love or Fear - It's your choice

I talked to John the other night and he gave me some simple wisdom in response to my questions about how to choose the good inclination (יצר הטוב) over the bad one (יצר הרע).

He said it's really making a choice between fear and love. If you choose to live with love, then it will be easy to make the choices that nourish and support. If you choose to live with fear, then the choices will be ones of self-destruction.

So how, I asked, does one move from fear to love?

He answered that it's about learning to send love to your fears. Simple to say, hard to do. The example we talked about was dealing with old memories of times that were dominated by fear. We can't change who we were, but we can change our attachment to the memory.

In this particular memory, I had not realized how scared I was at the time it happened, but in retrospect, it was very clear to me that I was being controlled by my fear. I concentrated on the memory and then threw my arms around my young self to send love. As I did, the feeling of the memory changed. I think this is one I'm going to have to go back to a few times, but the fear was starting to change. And in doing so, I'm changing who I am now by changing my attachment to who I was.

I'm learning to send love to my fear, and in that way, give power to my self-nourishing inclination and remove it from my self-destructive one.

The Role of Healers in the Healing

In dealing with my Yetzer haRah (see last post), I spent a lot of time thinking about the role of the healer in the healing, and particularly my role in the healing.

I often think of my treatments as creating the space for the healing to happen. My role is connecting to the patient, connecting to God, and then the healing happens. The power for the healing came from God, but I was involved as well. So how do I understand my role? And from that, how do I become a better healer?

I can interpret every treatment as completely God's work in which I am an empty vessel who simply does God's work. In this story, my role is to learn to be empty. There is no particular training needed, no need to work on healing techniques or better needle insertion. There is only one skill - being empty. Whatever path I followed to suppress my ego and become empty is all I need to keep doing to be a better healer. The danger of this path is that one can beat oneself up for having any ego at all, and so get into a rut of self-denial and self-suppression. I think there are people for whom this path works, it's just not who I am.

Another way of describing the treatment is that I can take complete credit for the treatment. I can believe that the whole treatment comes from my power, and there are no greater forces involved. My ego has complete control here. The dangers here are many. The story is all about me, and there is no room for God. This is the story of arrogance, and there is no need for growth - I did such an amazing thing, aren't I wonderful. There is no fears or tears or tensions created that would drive me forward. In this story, I am already perfect.

The challenge is finding a way to tell the story that allows me to have a sense of self, to keep growing, and to acknowledge the role of God. I think it is natural to take joy in our successes. When the harvest comes in, the farmer is joyful, but the farmer knows it is only temporary as it will be soon be time to start planting again.

I know that God played an integral part in the treatment and all the power is his, but I was there too. Is that arrogant to say? Is there a way to tell the story such that I acknowledge the work I did to enable the treatment to be successful?

The farmer knows that just scattering seeds on the soil and waiting won't bring crops to harvest. One needs to do a lot of planning, and hard work to make those plants grow. Ultimately, it's God who makes the plants grow, the rains fall, and who decides if the harvest will be successful. But that doesn't free the farmer from working very hard to create the right conditions in which the crops can succeed.

I think it works this way with healing. I have to work very hard to create the right space, to relax the patient, to place the needles in the right points, to place my hands on the right places - all that so that the healing can happen. My tension for growth is to always get better at my part of the healing. And then when I succeed and the patient gets better, then I feel joy. But like a farmer, I know the joy lasts only until my next treatment when I must begin all over again.

My teacher John once said to me that the Zen concept of not attaching to things is very important. I see it in this case: if I attach to the joy, then it prevents me from growing. If I deny the joy, I am not being honest with myself. If I feel the joy and then let it go and move on, then I can continue to plant and grow.

The story should perhaps be told in this way: A patient came in, I worked hard to create the space for the healing, and then felt joy when God connected to us and helped the client to heal. And then I moved on to the next patient.

A final note:
I wrote this post yesterday. Last night, I was reading The Wings of The Sun by Avraham Greenbaum. In the section on the rabbinic tradition (chapter 4, p. 33), he solves my dilemna by stating that God heals, but he grants the doctors power to heal as God's agents. He continues the point thus:

This latter viewpoint is vividly expressed in a midrash telling of a sick man who approached Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Akiva as they were walking in Jerusalem one day. The sick man asked the two rabbis what he should do to be cured. They gave him a number of recommendations, upon hearing which a farmer who had been listening said to them, "You're interfering in something that's none of your business! God afflicted him with illness and you want to heal him?" "But don't you as a farmer do the same?" they replied. "God created the earth, but you have to plow, till, fertilize and weed if you want the land to yield produce. `As for man, his days are as grass' (Psalms 103:15). The human body is the tree, the medicine is the fertilizer and the physician is the tiller of the earth" (Midrash Shmuel 52a #4).

What amazed me was that my analogy of a farmer was actually a classical one. It's amaizing when things come together like that!

If you follow the link to Wings of the Sun, the entire book is available on-line. It's worth the read: http://www.azamra.org/.

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.

Silence is not creation

It occurred to me the other day that it makes no sense to talk on Shabbat.

God created the world in six days and on the seventh he rested and did no creation How did he create? He talked and as he spoke the world came into being. We are created in God's image, and, as many kabbalists have pointed out, every time we speak we create. Which is a strong incentive to watch one's words very, very carefully as they have immense power. On shabbat we are commanded to neither create nor destroy. Since words are creation, why do we talk on Shabbat? It would make sense for it to be a day of silent contemplation and meditation so that we take a break from the role of continuously creating the world (another kabbalistic idea).

On the surface this idea seems silly, I mean, hey, we're Jews, we talk. But it seems to make sense.

I asked my friend Yoni about it and he said that there is a discussion in the Jerusalem Talmud about whether it is permitted to say "shalom" to someone on shabbat. This would imply that their practice was to be silent on Shabbat, and they concluded that it's maybe, reluctantly permissible to greet another person on Shabbat.

And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God ceased from all the work of creation that he had done.
Genesis 2:3

This is the first time God does not speak during the week of creation, but God blesses and makes it holy in silence. Two possibilities present themselves: either there are two different types of speech, one with the power of creation and one for blessing, or speech is for creation and silence is for blessing and making holy. It would imply that our words create, while our intention is what is important for blessing and making holy. So words could either create a good or a bad thing, holy or mundane, and it is our intention that determines how if it will be holy and a blessing to the world.

Menachem recently described to me the difference between God's nature and God's ability. It is within God's ability to create and destroy, to make both Good and Evil, but it is God's nature to Love and bless. Much as we see in the Human realm, the mirror of God, that we can do wonderful things and terrible abhorrent things, and it is up to us to decide. We struggle to give our good nature control over our ability so that we can be a blessing to the world. This idea dovetails nicely with what I'm describing above: our speech can do things, but our intention is what determines if it a blessing or a curse.

This is a good reason that all people walking the spiritual path have to spend a lot of time working on themselves and always look inward at their intentions and emotions to make sure they stay on the path.

In my own experience, I think there also exists speech that has power and speech that does not. One is done while connected to God, while the other is done without. When I work with my clients and am responded to something they have said, I always try to make sure I am connected, so that my words are healing. The same is true of writing, some of it is done with power and some of it is just words. This a longer discussion that I will get back to in another post.