The Incident at Highway 17B: The Worst of Times & The Best of Times The Torture Chamber Deep Mysteries are Evident Looking into the Heart of Pain Taking out Soul Insurance

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"The Worst of Times & The Best of Times"

Four Months Into the Healing Cycle
On the Edge of Life Your Spirit Soars

Over four months have passed since I had my pelvis shattered in an auto wreck. The other morning my son walked by and reminded me of the opening lines from Tale of Two Cities. He simply glanced at me and said, Remember, It was the best of times and the worst of times." No doubt this is not the best spring and summer of my life. It has, though, become the deepest. The accident may have shattered my body, but it also cracked open deeper layers within my heart. By the way, being cracked open is intense.

Oftentimes I have felt like I was back in New Mexico, sitting on an outcropping of rock on the canyon overlooking the Rio Grande River. Up there the wind always blew on my face. One summer I caught nearly every sunrise on that canyon edge just outside of Taos. Every dawn the sun rose blood-red over the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. In the evenings, the thunderstorms lit up the sky. And as the thunderclaps roared down miles of canyon they sounded like giant bowling balls rolling and smashing off the canyon walls. Every morning I would sit out there, in prayer, on that canyon edge at first light. Every now and then I was buffeted by big updrafts of wind from the river floor. Sometimes that wind would nearly knock me off my special perch. I vividly remember how small I felt as I held fast to the rock ledge where I was sitting.

Back then I thought the metaphor was that sometimes we have to hold on to the edge and find balance near the precipices of life. I was young and life was still rich with the metaphors of youth.

This auto wreck, though, has taken things a few steps further. It rubbed out a lot of those metaphors and left me staring at life. If I ever thought life was a metaphor for many things, I can now report that although life may have metaphors, the edge of life is very real.

Here is a small piece of advice: It is a good idea, when you find yourself on the edge of your life, to grab hold of a piece of your spirit. Any small morsel will do. It not only calms your heart as it flip-flops near the edge of the cliff, but it truly is a lifeline when you feel yourself falling.

Spiritual updrafts also blow up inner spiritual storms. No one ever said that spiritual growth is a gentle experience. I can report some of these upsurges have literally taken my breath away. Some have made my spirit soar and some of them have scared the hell out of me.

In the midst of crisis the spirit does indeed soar, and spirit soaring that is filled with inspiration teaches us about the Love of Heaven. Spirit soaring can also be frightening. The scary stuff bumps us into what I like to call the Awe of Heaven. Awe, after all, is always tinged with Fear. I much prefer the Love experience, but the suffering I have gone through since my accident has led me to understand that the nature of growth includes a very heavy dose of the experience of Awe -- Awe clothed in the garment of Fear. What I can report is that both of these experience are, by their very nature, incredibly strong. They stretch you out all the way from Earth to Heaven.

No One Said It Was Going to Be Easy

A teacher of mine once commented about the spiritual path by remarking, No one said life was going to be easy. If I ever had any doubts about that simple truth, they are gone forever. The accident changed all that. While there are a lot of exalted lessons happening here, it is also true that what I have learned has come courtesy of the tough lessons dosed with pain.

What I knew before about suffering and pain has now changed to what I know and experience in suffering and pain. From all the wisdom streams I have studied I can definitely say that all the teachers got the lessons on suffering right. All the chapters written down through the centuries are accurate and require our attention. If I could distill it all down to a few words, I would simply say that suffering and crisis transform us, humble us, and bring out what matters most in life.

It has not been easy for my family as far as worrying about and taking care of me. Sometimes I think it is harder for them than for me. Nevertheless, I suspect on the spiritual level we are going through the best of times. The irony is not lost on me. Accidents also open us to a world of meaning. Still in all, it is a hell of a way to be blessed with meaning. But the truth is, that is why these things are called "accidents" -- because no one in his right mind would ever order up a serving of blessings and meaning this way! For years I used to teach about and marvel at how the Talmud points out that just as we bless the good, so, too, do we bless the bad. I always thought that was a profound concept. It is only now, when I find myself stretched between the good blessing and the bad blessing, that I understand how important it is to surrender to the depth of my life. Nothing that happens is to be ignored. Everything requires attention and mindfulness. There are spiritual gems to be recovered from the difficult challenges. I think that is why the great Hassidic master Reb Dov Ber of Mizrich said, Sometimes we have to sift through the ashes to find a single spark.

A 5-Star Crisis Rating

You might wonder what I mean by the best of times. My auto accident certainly deserves a 5-Star Crisis Rating. This was, and is, a doozy. The choice we all face in crisis is: how are we going to respond to difficult challenges? Are we going to totally fall apart or let loose the best of who we are? (Note we all fall apart in crisis. The question is for how long?) And as many of you know from my book, the best of who we are means the best of our love, caring and compassion.

I consider this the best of times because I am in the middle of one compelling life drama and it has tested everything I know and everything I surmised I am. I put any major life crisis in the category of no stone unturned. Why is this so? Simply because pretty much every aspect of our lives falls under scrutiny. When these kinds of things happen, there is no avoiding the inevitable meeting up with everything we stand for.

Accidents and catastrophic events of this order of magnitude put your whole being to the test. Early on I knew I was in the middle of my own unique test. I don't think it is too dramatic to say I even put a label on my accident. I put this entire event in the category of Trials and Tribulations.

Living in the middle of this has shaken out everything I stand for. A good deal of the time I felt like I had caught the perfect wave. The only problem was that I also realized that I have never really had a lesson in surfing. Things spin around in my world so fast that I sometimes experience a profound, although not particularly pleasant, rush. Most important is to know that even without all the fancy spiritual lessons, practices, and teachings, we naturally come prepared to face the tough, gritty, mind-numbing events.

By the way, that doesn't mean we transcend everything like a graceful ballet dancer. Anyone who thinks we can pull grace out of a hat has his nose stuck in a book under the category of spiritual fiction. We can, though, live with grace and give love and compassion even when the best of times are continually marinated in the worst of times. Either way it cuts, life has meaning and blessings no matter where we find ourselves.

Copyright ©2000 Rabbi Yehudah Fine

"The Torture Chamber"

First Night Home

I remember the first night I got home from the hospital. We rented a hospital bed and put it in the living room. My wife and boys got everything set up for my arrival. We decided to put my body in the living room because it is the prettiest room in the house. It has a view of our fields and the mountain behind our home. I can check out the deer and wild turkey in the early morning from the window as they wander around the old apple orchard up in the field on the left side of the house.

They even put my iMac next to my bed along with a few of my holy books. Technology and the sacred are becoming companions in this age. And for those who know how much I love baseball they hooked up the cable near my bed so I wouldn't miss a Yankee game. Baseball in the summer is a hermitage for my soul. The set up in the living room looked even a bit idyllic. Our black lab, Jazzy, even had room to lie right next to my bed.

As I lay in the hospital and thought of home it certainly made me yearn for the cozy and the comfortable. But that first night home turned into a nightmare. An important fact -- when you are wounded, the smallest adjustments of the body can instantly turn life into a first-rate torture chamber. In this case the torture chamber was supplied by the medical supply people. They made a seemingly simple mistake: They sent along the wrong hospital mattress.

That sounds like a minor issue. I mean, it was, after all, just a mattress. How could a mattress torture someone? Even on a lumpy mattress you can get a good night's sleep. But in my circumstance it was a major issue.

The mattress was hard plastic that folded up into ridges when I lay on it. When the ambulance folks wheeled me into the house on a gurney and put me in the bed, the pain exploded in my body.

Here is the medical situation: My right back side from my backbone to the end of my hip is held together with wires, screws, pins and bolts. If you can a get a good picture of that in your mind then you can imagine I was painfully sensitive to pressure and touch. A hard plastic mattress was just the thing to grind into me! I confess, I lost it. Five minutes on that mattress and I was writhing in agony. As I lay down on the mattress on the right side of my hip, it felt like there were about 10 nine-inch nails that immediately pierced my skin and sunk all the way down to the bone to split me open again.

That is not a pretty picture. Plain and simple, it was a heavy dose of pure agony. This was really fierce pain. The pain was so immense that it was one of those times when I thought I simply was not going to make it. The pain was a chart-topper.

Simple Acts of Love Transform Crisis

Well, there I lay. I was writhing in agony on the bed. My son, Benny, and my wife, Elliesheva, were looking on with a touch of horror, fear, worry and major consternation. This was not a pleasant scene for any of us, but they mobilized and within 35 minutes figured out what to do: They found another mattress in the house that fit. They simply changed the mattress and the torture instantly stopped.

Nevertheless, let me tell you that those 35 minutes made me certain that no spy could ever survive a full-out torture assault. I know I would have given up every secret I knew to get out of my predicament. There is little room for heroics when your body is flat out feeling like you are being flayed alive. But even here there is a profound spiritual lesson. The lesson is that sometimes the simplest action or gesture in life can deliver the wounded and the hurt from their deepest travail. We ought not to forget that -- it's the lesson that teaches us everything we need to know about gratitude and love. It's the lesson that can end nightmares. It's a lesson about holding on and praying for hope. It is a lesson that tells us that spirituality also needs actions. Talking about heaven is interesting, but being a vehicle for the sake of Heaven is something entirely different.

While I lay moaning, my family not only had to act, but they had to call on their inner strength to get them through. Even the giver has to persevere. This was painful for them, too. But, thank God, they also knew this was only one of many challenges that lay ahead. My lying around in the middle of my family for all these months has changed everyone's life.

My wife told me that as I was moaning, she and my son, Benny, went down our little hallway off the living room to discuss what they were going to do. As they began talking, Benny -- out of nowhere -- turned and hugged his mother and said to her, "Mom, no matter what happens we are all in this together. We are going to get through all of this!"

His simple act of love in the middle of a crisis, focused them and reminded them about the depth of their love and how they chose to be, act and respond in the middle of the fire. When my wife told me this little tale, I said, "My love, as far as I am concerned, if you want to know what being spiritual is all about -- well, what went down between you and Benny is a clear example of what that is all about. Spirituality is grounded in the personal." I truly believe that to be the case. We often fool ourselves, thinking that Spirit is somewhere else, in other worldly experiences, in great rushes or ecstatic visions. I think we all would be a lot better off if we refocused and understood that the Holy is in our hands and in our deeds.

The sacred is manifest when we give of our heart. When we are tender and loving to those around us, we are in the Spirit and living the Spiritual. If not through our deeds and actions, how else is the manifest beauty of the Sacred gong to make it into this world? Our hands and our heart are so to speak the way God comes into this world.

By the way, that is why I suspect King David wrote in the Psalms -- the simple statement that "goodness and compassion should chase me all the days of my life." If we hunger to live the Spiritual, we hunger to serve and to give. The deepest experience we can have in this life is the joy that fills our hearts when we love and give to others. If somehow we can remember that, we are bound to chase after the highest spiritual delight we can experience -- the experience of the doing the good and living with compassion.

The Reflecting Mirror of Our Lives

Later that night after everyone had gone to sleep and as I lay comfortably in bed, I thought about a little teaching in the Talmud that says "in whatever way a person chooses, that is the way they are led" (Makkos 22:6).

It occurred to me after weathering that round of pain that we do have choices on how we walk on our path in life. Lying there I realized that while I certainly was not able to pick the road on which I am currently walking, I can choose how I want to be on that road. I can go down this road with a measure of dignity. I realized that the road we are all on is a reflecting spiritual mirror of who we are. It just takes a bit of courage to give yourself a look. But if you look, you surely are going to see where you are led.

As much as we may not like to admit it, we never really know who we are until we are tested. Life does fill us with exacting measurements of our spirit. It's a hell of a way to discover the depth of life, but still and all when you are in the middle of it, all the choices get really simple. For me, this nothing more than a case of "to be or not to be." For me, that is the "question." And when faced with all this pain, I am going to try to choose to be. I am not going to be a "not be" person.

Copyright ©2000 Rabbi Yehudah Fine

"Deep Mysteries are Evident" or How to Take Out Soul Insurance

Pain Opens the Heart

What is self-evident is that my body got wrecked. What also is clearly evident is that precisely because I was struck down, I had to learn to live with intense pain.

But here's the kicker: The pain is responsible for doors being opened in my heart. How strange it is to have something so brutal bring out so many deep changes in my life. There is, of course, a deep mystery at work here. The core understanding, I suspect, flows very much from wisdom that teaches that "by failing to accept your suffering, the pain you feel will be much more acute and harsh." (Chesbon Hanefesh 76-77).

Implied in that teaching is that by accepting, something else will happen. From the beginning I simply accepted that where I am and was, was "meant to be." Why fight accepting what had happened to me? I saw that as an extraordinary waste of time. Instead, I chose to accept where I am and was. The result was simply that by doing that, I found I could let go and be. It freed my mind up enough to pursue my healing. It opened new doors to the spiritual realms; new doors to contemplation and meditation.

But again, it is a hell of a way to discover things lying deep in the soul. Still in all, there is a deep connection between "broken-ness" and Spirit. When we suffer, it is not just the body that gets broken -- so, too, does the heart. It is never easy looking at life and seeing dreams vanish, hopes disappear, or even life events and plans get more than put on hold. The flip side of being helpless is that there are only a few avenues open to you. As I lay in the hospital, everything I was accustomed to was gone. No plans, no dreams, no visions of what I was going to do and be next. Believe me, I am a very driven person and to have all of that just pulled away was startling. And I could not do a thing about it. I, the helper, was now turned into the "help me" person. In a moment, my life totally changed.

Was that sad? You bet it was sad.

Was it simple to process? No way! I have been on a life track for a lot of years and to have it all vanish left me floating in a void of sadness.

Was that a good place to be? I think so.

To change, I knew I had to let go. To be fully in the present and attend to my needs, I had to drop everything I had thought about what I was going to be doing with my life. I was attached to that and letting go was sad -- sad and poignant. But it was not depressing. The pain was depressing, but not this. I welcomed it once I understood that what I needed to do was find a new dawn in my heart. There were times late at night, as I lay in the darkness in the trauma ward, where I found myself quietly marveling and chuckling at my predicament. For years I have given so much advice about these kinds of matters to so many folks, and now I had to find out if I could take some of my own advice. I found a lot of humor in that -- a wonderful role reversal. I also found a lot of truth. Bottom line? If I could summarize a spiritual aphorism that goes with all of this, I would say that Rabbi Scnhuer Zalman said it pretty clearly when he wrote: "A broken heart is not the same as sadness. Sadness occurs when the heart is stone-cold and lifeless. On the contrary, there is an unbelievable amount of vitality in a broken heart."

And that is the truth. There is and was -- in all this pain and sadness --a lot of vitality. There is a lot of spiritual juice in all of this. Why is this so? Well, what else is there to do in circumstances like this but to turn your life over to God? Dependency here opened me to the recognition that I was dependent on God. Where else could I hang on?

The ancient understanding that suffering opens one to God certainly is on my mind. I do not claim to have fathomed the mystery. I just know it is a good mystery. This mystery includes, after all, the story of my life.

And the irony is that I appear in this little section to be the protagonist. And even better, that I don't have a clue as to the story's ending. But I am not free from trying to fathom the meaning and preparing myself at every turn in the road to accept what comes my way.

Be Prepared to Let the Meaning Flow

Along the way I have been comforted by some wisdom words that have kept me in focus, especially in the really rough times. I try as much as I can to remember to keep my eye on matters at hand. I see this like a spiritual Boy Scout mantra. You remember the motto -- "Be prepared." I have found it is truly important not to run from challenges in life. This certainly is one of the bigger life lessons here. Not running away is useful for anyone who tries to flee from their lives. Bottom line -- when you think about it, how can you run away from being you?

But when I got whacked, nearly "bought the farm," and finally gathered my wits together, I truly saw how this accident -- or, in fact, any major big-time life event -- does get one's attention. I vividly kept recalling the teaching that says, "When you find yourself in a difficult situation, the first thought to focus on is that the situation is a test and challenge." (Chochmah Umussar, vol. 2 p. 62)

I now see that teaching in a new light and try to hold fast to it. Just so we are all clear on this -- it takes a lot of grit to hold on to things like that in the house of pain. But let me tell you, it is a hell of lot better thinking and meditating on meaning and purpose than lying in a cesspool of suffering 24 hours a day. To know for a fact that there is something to be learned in the middle of crisis is a whole lot better than being totally lost in a world devoid of love and meaning.

I do want to keep all this spiritual stuff in perspective. God forbid, someone might think the growth curve is upward, exciting, and continually revelatory. Well, it is not. Life is not that way. Growth is not that way. Spirituality certainly is not that way. I would avoid anything that tells you differently. When I think about my crash, though, it still almost stops my heart. The paradox between the crash and what has happened since then stretches my mind taut. My hands still get cold and clammy. My eyes still sting when I shut them. Occasionally, my hands get cold and clammy. It's true -- there are great mysteries in life, things we can feel but not completely understand and see.

Copyright ©2000 Rabbi Yehudah Fine

Looking Into the Heart of Pain, Attitude and Forgiveness

In The Middle is Mystery

In the middle of the mystery of pain, there are precious jewels to be harvested. There are gifts of the heart to be experienced. There is incredible beauty and poignancy in discovering the love in this world. I may have gotten pain dealt to me in spades, but I also can tell you I have gotten more love and compassion poured over me, through me, and around me than I ever knew existed. Often, I was asked by the hospital staff why I seemed to be happy most of the time. They would say, Look at what happened to you. Doesn't it ever really bother you?

While I confessed to not being in a continual state of joy (to say the least), I also clearly understood their question. In reality, their question was not directed at me, but at themselves. They were asking, Would it be possible for me to be happy if I were in Yehudah's shoes? I suspect that everyone harbors such thoughts. We all wonder how we are going to respond to some crushing crisis. We all wonder if it will break us. These are natural questions.

We wonder, too, about how we will handle pain. And beyond that, we wonder if we really will be able to make amends and straighten out our lives if we are caught the in the middle of a buzz saw.

You see, there are really three hurdles to overcome in crisis. There are probably more, and in fact, are, but for simplicity I think three major hurdles are sufficient. The hurdles are dealing with pain, attitude, and cleaning up the heart.

Dealing With Pain

Pain management is a huge issue in the hospital or for anyone who suffers from chronic debilitating or life-ending pain. I will discuss in a later issue the "Pain Wars" that I had with my doctors. But briefly, if you do not get proper pain management, it is extremely difficult to heal or keep your wits about you.

I have been living with various stages of intense pain now for over six months and had to fight for proper management every step of the way. Proper pain management equals the ability to use your mind and focus your consciousness. Without it, life is a living hell. When the pain volume is turned up high, all you can do is writhe, cry, and pray for sleep.

There are some physicians who have enough compassion and common sense to treat their patients' pain. Good pain management is essential. Still and all, I find it ironic that we live in a world today where everything is focused on the physical. We somehow have the notion that if my pain is managed, my life will come together. Nothing, of course, could be further from the truth.

In any life-threatening or profound crisis, handling pain is only one of the steps, but pain and suffering are also great teachers. They point the way to our inner world that needs sewing and mending. Sadly, we live in a world where we are so afraid of sufferings teaching that we organize our lives around anesthetizing the messages of our anxiety or pain.

Let me report to you from the front lines of the trauma ward, where pain doesn't stalk the corridors and hide in waiting. Pain on the trauma ward walks freely around, touching everything and everybody, 24 hours a day. Even with its brazen fierce presence, though, so many folks I met there did not listen to its roaring message. For many folks, once they got the meds and the pain went away, they ran back into the cave of denial about their lives.

I don't, in general, like blanket, sweeping statements, but I will give you one anyway. There is physical pain and there is psychic pain. Don't confuse the two and think that when the physical pain goes away you are all right psychically. Lives spent avoiding the teaching of anxiety, suffering, and pain only punched our issues down deeper into our heart. The longer we avoid dealing with our lives, the more trouble we find at the end. Issues not attended to in life can come roaring out like a devouring monster if left buried and medicated. I know that some of you reading this now are aware of the truth of the last sentence. My advice always is: Deal with it now.

Attitude is Everything

Attitude is also -- if I may be so bold -- everything. Attitude is everything. It is very important in life and especially in trauma to not fight the truth of who you are. I know I have said that before, but it is worth saying again. Where your attitude is, so be you. Where your attitude is, so be your consciousness. No matter what has happened in life, we have the capacity to choose how we want to be. Allowing ourselves to be guided by our core values unlocks a profound spiritual blessing -- the blessing of living in the moment with grace, dignity, warmth, kindness and compassion.

The Talmud pulls no punches when sages teach that the way an individual travels on the path, that is the way they are lead. It also cuts this teaching another way. The way an individual travels on the path, that is how they are judged. I am quite certain that we fear changing attitude for a very simple reason -- fear of the unknown. While we might not like the crappy side to ourselves, it is what we know. It is easier to delude ourselves into thinking and identifying with what we know than risk to be what we can be.

The thought for most folks in that department is downright scary. I understand that and certainly recognize that it is rare to have a blockbuster transformation. But still and all, there is virtue and merit in trying.

And then sometimes by the grace of God, we get occasional gifts in life. Crisis is one of those gifts. Crisis has the capacity to open us up to change. The trouble is that it comes with these teachers called Suffering or Pain. We are generally afraid of those teachers. We want to run away from them and push them off with denial and medication. But what if we knew that as tough as they are, these teachers truly are realized masters or angels sent to us to wake us up to our lives and to transform our attitudes?

I am speaking here on a personal level. This is not a global discussion about suffering. I think we all agree that every conscious person must be involved in the struggle to extinguish suffering in the world. But that is a different issue.

The issue here is -- if I am caught up in one of the chain-saw cycles of life, where I find myself having to confront the Two Masters (Suffering and Pain), what course and direction do I choose to take? After pain management, what precisely do I do to learn, change, transform and grow?

What truly in my life can motivate me? For me, I must confess that in the middle of the buzz saw, I made a conscious decision to stay with my core; to let that light be the beacon for myself and my relationships. Most of all, I was motivated to do this for my children. I wanted them to see what was possible in crisis. I wanted them to know that their father deemed it worthwhile, even in the middle of hell, to be a person who does not let go of what is precious in life.

I did it for them and in so doing, did it for myself. Remember, though, I do mention the middle of hell. I would never want anyone to think that attitude equals perfection. Or that I did not cry my eyes out at times. I belong, after all, to the school called the spirituality of imperfection.

Wisdom for the Heart of Life

Let me share with you some wisdom teachings that are my spiritual companions in life. I carry a lot of teachings around in my mind and heart. In fact, I consider a lot of these teachers my best friends and lifelong companions. In my tradition, a holy book can be your best friend. Teachings that are for the ages are alive to me. They are alive in spirit and, as such, I carry them as living charges of pure wisdom inside my consciousness. After all, when I met them I knew them instantly. Most of them zapped my mind on the first encounter and woke me up.

On Suffering

Suffering is meant as a teacher to anyone who sees it or hears about it. The suffering of anyone in the world can serve as a tool to learn lessons that will elevate us. (Toras Avraham, p. 54)

It is rather clear that what we encounter in life can allow us to grow. Ignoring the world around us is akin to ignoring the deep meaning found in life. The message is: Pay attention!

On Worry

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 100b) states: Do not worry about what might possibly go wrong the next day. One never knows what will occur. Perhaps tomorrow you will no longer be in this world and you will have worried about a world that is not yours.

"Be here now" is a strong injunction to embrace the life we have in each moment. Straying away from life in the present, through, creates constant worry. Not paying attention to message in the worry is not paying attention to the life message given now.

On Seeing Life as It Is

If things do not go the way you wish them to be, you should then wish them to be the way they are in reality." (Magadolai Hatorah Vachssidus , vol 20, p. 107)

Again, it is OK to see your life as it is in the Here and Now. If you wish to transform your reality, it is a good idea to get a true fix on where you are now.

On What Life Expects From Us: Words From the concentration camp --Auschwitz

It did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life -- daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right action and in right conduct. Life ultimately means taking the responsibility to find the right answer to its problems and to fulfill the tasks which it constantly sets for each individual. (Viktor Frankl -- Mans Search for Meaning)

If we realize that life is asking us to respond with our core values, we awaken to the preciousness of beauty of our life and others. We awaken to the moment and care. We abandon spiritual practice and embrace life. We do not worry. We do not flee. We act with grace, strength, and compassion. We act even with imperfection, but we act.

Mending the Heart

With pain managed and attitude transformed, then it is possible to look at what needs mending in life. When we yearn to touch with love the souls of ourselves and another, to sew up old wounds -- to mend lifes traumas -- ironing out the wrinkles in life becomes paramount. Making amends and forgiveness are the keys that unlock the heartland of spirit and land of the soul. For many of you who have been with me on AOL at my live conference for the last two years or so, you know that this section has been our topic. (If you are interested in an in-depth look, I suggest you go to the Addiction & Recovery forum at AOL and download transcripts of our conferences on forgiveness.)

Now, of course, there are no instant miracles to fix ones heart. But even if the bottom-line result of our all our search for forgiveness doesn't miraculously bring about a "perfect healing," it does allow us to live our lives so that we no longer ignore the consequences of not only what we do, but what has happened to us.

Each day we all face the opportunity to accept a precious gift -- ourselves and those we love. One of the keys to opening the door to that gift is forgiveness.

I have found that there are seven principles that unlock forgiveness. They are:

1) Forgiveness is a choice.

2) Forgiveness is for the sake of ourselves.

3) Forgiveness heals deep inner pain and wounds.

4) Forgiveness is letting go of anger and resentment.

5) Forgiveness is not tied to forgetting. It is tied to remembering.

6) Forgiveness cant be willed, but depends on the willingness of the heart.

7) Forgiveness doesn't let someone off the hook. It strives, where possible, for reconciliation.

The simple truth is that after facing our pain, and transforming our attitudes, we are ready to mend our relationship to ourselves and others. We come to this threshold precisely because we no longer flee from anxiety, pain and suffering. We thirst for something more. We seek to drink from the wellspring of our soul, not the bitter waters of our denial. In essence, at this point we have no choice; we seek to forgive.

I remember being shoved awake after seven and a half hours of surgery. I was in the recovery room. The staff worked on me for hours to bring me back to consciousness. (I, of course, remember none of that, but rely on my wife's report.)

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, I drifted back into this reality. A doctor was right next to my face asking me questions. He asked, Do you know where you are? I replied, No. He then asked, Do you know you were in an accident? I answered, No. He asked further, Do you know who you are? I said back, No. He then brought my wife in and had her come really close to my face. He then said, Do you know her? I looked back at him and said, Of course, that is my holy wife!

I think that says a lot about reconciliation, forgiveness, and -- truly on a core level -- being straight with love. You see, my wife and I have this rule that says we will hassle the truth forever. If we have a problem we talk it out. If it entails reconciling we will work it out. Even before I went under the knife, the last thing I said to her was how much I loved her and my kids. I told her if I didn't come through the surgery and if there was any stone I left in this world unturned, I asked for her forgiveness. I told her to tell my kids the same.

The point here is that it is a good idea not to leave any secrets lying and festering in your heart at the end of the day. It is important to not tell yourself, Well, this much I can do but further, no. I have done enough." Or "I have been through enough in life that I don't have to face everything. Or, "My life has been hard enough, I don't have to make amends on everything."

And the point was when that when I said goodbye to wife before surgery, I did not know if I was going to make it back, but I knew the eternity and holiness of our relationship. I knew that if I was leaving, I wanted to be straight. Love is very, very deep. It is something I suspect goes beyond even personal identity in a lifetime -- that certainly was indicated by my reply to the doctor. Sometimes when we cannot even find ourselves, I believe our soul mate or our closest friends can transcend any loss. Just thinking about that experience rocks me back on my socks.

From Helplessness You Can See

Mending and reconciling opens up new vistas of seeing the world. It turned part of my hospital journey into an entirely different perspective. Visitors turned into healing visitations. And the real genuine healing visits were, to me, like spiritual visitations. They lifted my spirit. They soothed my soul. They caressed my wounded body like a cool healing breeze. I learned who were my friends, found new friends, and saw some of them as angels.

When you are totally helpless there is profound irony at work. From the state of helplessness you can see. I often reflected on this. I certainly had a lot of time to reflect. There I lay for weeks in excruciating pain. I could not move. I could not turn over. I could not sit up without assistance. I could not walk. I was catheterized. I could not wash myself. I could not clean up after myself. I had to have someone help me do everything. I had a 23-inch stitched and stapled wound from the top of my pelvis down my thigh. At the bottom of the wound was a big drainage hole dug out of my flesh, oozing and open on my thigh. It was there to heal all the inner damage and prevent infection. I was attached to a morphine drip. I slept countless hours.

And yet I could see things in people more clearly than any other time in my life. Go figure that out. How is that possible? The moment of total helplessness is at the same time the moment of spiritual vision.

Copyright ©2000 Rabbi Yehudah Fine

Taking Out Soul Insurance

One thing I am certain about is that we will be a lot better off in life if we recognize and accept the fact that some heavy things are inevitably going to happen. We are going to get sick. We are going to experience deep trauma. We are going to die.

Every great spiritual tradition recommends contemplating these facts of life. Every tradition teaches that cultivating awareness of the experience of these big issues is part of the path to awakening. To put it rather bluntly, any problem not attended to today will make an appointment with us at some later date. The Talmud recommends that after making a fearless inventory of ones life when facing critical problems, if no solution presents itself, then look toward the day of your death and awaken to your life.

The recommendation is that we can prepare ourselves and strengthen ourselves. Crisis and adversity are, it seems, cornerstones of spiritual healing. I call that taking out Soul Insurance.

Just how do you take out soul insurance? Soul insurance requires a willingness to make the initial down payment. Put simply, the down payment is our willingness to deal with and face our fears. It challenges us not to be immobilized by our fear. Fear is the immobilizer of growth and healing. We have to remember that fear flourishes and counts on our ability to avoid what frightens us. It makes us avoid being ourselves. It makes us avoid making contact with others.

But to arrive at the gate of our souls, we have to pass through the gate of fear. Granted, that is not a pleasant prospect but it seems if we can take a closer look at what we fear we think is coming, we can bring our anxiety into the present and, hopefully, to some degree disarm it. The notion is to make it less toxic and make us less reactive. And by all means not to let fear keep us from being who we are, need to be, and to reach those who need us.

We ought not let fear take us away from our caring and loving others. We ought not let fear immobilize us from giving others a hand. We ought not let fear stop us from bestowing kindness. We ought not let fear close us off from the world.

Gunshots and Poets

During the first half hour I was in the trauma hospital, I found myself lying on a gurney in the hallway of the Emergency Center. The hallway was loaded with people like me. Dozens of wounded. My first taste of triage (i.e., those of us not close to death) meant I got the hallway. We could wait; high-risk patients got immediate attention. I was lying next to a young man who was 15 or 16 years old. He had been shot in the stomach a few months back. He was hemorrhaging again and his mom brought him in for more surgery. The head of my gurney touched the head of his. We could not see each other, but we could talk.

Lying there, I experienced waves of first-class terror. I knew I had a rough road ahead. My pelvis was pulverized and shattered; my knee needed surgery. My right foot had all the tendons and ligaments smashed to hell. My head had a big gash and who-knows-what-else was bleeding or oozing on my body. I couldn't take a look. I was afraid I was never going to walk. I had this gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach. It is an old familiar friend. I knew it would take a lot of work to make it go away.

My wife stood next to me for hours and held my hand. I had my anxiety and I had my love. A weird combination, but a truthful one. We spent a lot of time talking about how blessed we have been to be with each other this lifetime. It was a real heavy scene and a very juicy conversation.

If you wonder why at that time our topic was love, all I can say is that since I was waiting to be called to surgery, it seemed that it was the most meaningful conversation we could ever imagine. Love is, after all, the deepest topic I know. And we went with it. When everything is being pulled away from you in life, what is left is what means the most to you in life.

I have seen this time and time again when folks hit the bottom. It comes about when all your desperation and fear no longer are an option. It gets that way because when you are truly helpless and things are obviously so beyond your control, what surfaces is the depth of what counts in your life. In my life, the No. 1 item always on my list is my wife and kids, and then those around me. As my wife and I poured out our "love talk," I lie there and we even laughed. The gunshot-wounded kid next to my head, out of nowhere, asked me a question.

He said, "Man, what kind of drugs do they got you on?

I replied, Are you asking 'cause I am talking the 'love talk' with my wife, or because you want to know what they juiced me with? I can tell you my love is real without the shot of Demerol. What brought you in here today?

He sighed, I was shot in the gut a couple of months back. I used to weigh nearly 200 pounds. Now look at me. I have lost so much weight. Had my spleen taken out. Kept bleeding on my insides and was feeling real weak. My momma brought me in here again."

Listening to him talk got me curious. For a moment I forgot where I was. Listening to him took me right back to the streets. His words were so familiar to me. The kid wanted to talk. In fact, he needed to talk. He picked me because he had eavesdropped into the warmth of our conversation and knew instinctively that anyone talking that talk and putting out that love was safe to engage. He grew up in, obviously, a dangerous neighborhood. He was scared. While he couldn't see my face, he could sense our energy. He was in crisis and so we talked.

I asked him next, How did it happen? Who the hell shot you? I could hear him let out a long breath. It was ragged, painful and tinged with what I call "chatter breath." You know, the breathing you get when you are ready to cry and let go.

I was shot going over to my girlfriends house. Someone shot me because I was in the wrong neighborhood. I was told to watch out when I visited her. But I mean, they shot me. Some gangbanger just pulled up and tried to do me in. He pumped one right into my stomach. I would have died right there if someone hadn't 911'ed me and got me to this hospital.

I then asked him straight out, You don't sound like a gangbanger. Are you one? Or did some son of a bitch crazy just try to take you out?

His mom piped right in, My son ain't in no gang. He is a good boy. He goes to school.

Suddenly I realized we were right in the middle of an important conversation. I said right back, What a nightmare. Your son has been through such hell. How do you manage to keep it all together? By the way, my name is Yehudah and this is my wife, Ellie. I could say, pleased to meet you, except while I am pleased, this is the not exactly the place I had in mind to meet anyone.

They both laughed. The young man said, I'm Curtis and this is my mom. What kind of name is Yehudah?

I briefly gave him my bio and told him what my name was in Hebrew and what it meant spiritually. He simply said, Cool. I never met a rabbi, and I never met a Yehudah.

Our conversation went on for a while. Actually over an hour. We just laid there, head-to-head, talking. I learned, in that hour, a lot about this kid. He used to be athletic, muscular and powerful. He was on his high school basketball team. The bullet had taken away his muscles, his weight and basketball. He was in pain all the time and scared. He was afraid he was going to die. At one point he described exactly how he was shot. Every detail from the initial thud of the bullet that threw him off his feet, to the speeding car of gangbangers who drove away laughing. Every detail. Every sentence was pointed and lyrical.

My wife turned to him as he finished and said, "You know you sound like a poet. What you just said could have been written in an incredible poem. I immediately added, Curtis, do you write?

Suddenly the whole scene changed. His mom began to smile and cry. Curtis gritted his teeth and laughed. It seemed as if the whole emergency room went quiet. What really was happening is we had crossed a barrier and landed right in the middle of this kids heart. He was shot and I was shattered. We were lying head-to-head on gurneys and we touched into a place beyond bodies, pain and fear. It all dissolved in that instant. He began to tell me the deepest yearnings of his heart.

Right in that hallway, I met a kid named Curtis -- 16 years old and a secret poet. My wife had picked up on his core. Only his mom knew of his love of poetry and his writing. Out of nowhere he began to recite poem after poem that he had written. He was prolific in his writing and had memorized every poem he ever wrote. After his poetry reading I said to his mother, Mom, you gotta take good care of your boy. He is poet with a deep heart. He is a writer. He speaks from his soul. He has to get better and you gotta make sure he keeps writing.

Affirming the Good in Life

OK, what was happening here? I guess you realize a lot. But what happened was that in this bizarre wounded emergency room world, four strangers met and two of the strangers (my wife and I) recognized and affirmed the deepest secret in a kids heart. A secret that no one else other than his mother knew about. It was the one secret that gave Curtis the key to his inner life. His poetry was the expression of his soul.

To have strangers affirm the most profound part of his life pushed him right past this fear and depression. It affirmed him as a person. He lived in a neighborhood where affirmations were dealt out through the barrel of a gun. Everything precious had to be hidden and kept out of harm's way. The trouble is that living that way, the sacred treasures of the heart can get so hidden that they start to lose their power and their meaning. If you try to protect yourself too much you end up protecting yourself from yourself.

Curtis had a hard road ahead. So much for our breathing a sigh of relief when we hear, after a gun fight, that no one died. When the reports come in that people were just wounded, taken to the hospital for surgery, and then eventually released, I hope we realize that there is so much more to the story. Bullets tear up your insides. The body most likely is never the same.

To heal, you need your soul and your heart. We also I suspect need others. Our brief meeting in an emergency trauma center affirmed a kids heart. A few minutes later they came and got Curtis. He went off to surgery. Right before he left he reached over and held my hand. I said to him, Don't take what went down here as something that was just random. In a weird way, and I mean weird, we were meant to have this conversation. You got talent and soul. You don't have to be afraid. The road ahead may be long and hard, but bring your words and your poems to heal you. Bring meaning to the nightmare of your neighborhood. And share it, Curtis. It is good. It touched me. It is you.

He just squeezed my hand real hard. His mother gave my wife a big hug. She, too, took my hand. She had tears in her eyes. I added, Momma, you have a good boy. You have raised him right. I bless you that you keep him on the right track and you keep him writing. Get him through high school. Send him to college. You know you can do it.

I never saw Curtis or his mom again. He is another kid I will carry in my heart the rest of my life. For a couple of hours in the Twilight Zone of my life, I once again affirmed that wherever we are and whatever might be happening, we can pay attention to life and what life wants of us each moment. For that little time, I forgot how hurt I was. I forgot my fear.

I remembered how special each person is in this world. I remembered how important it is to care. I remembered in my mind that God is everywhere and available in every moment.

Giving to others is one way to let go of fear. Giving takes us away from living trapped in the endless loops of our anxiety. And even if the fear returns -- and it surely does for most of us -- knowing that we can still care in the middle of our own nightmares is about as strong a spiritual statement as we can make about our life.

My accident continually teaches me that to understand I have to live in harmony with my heart. One way to find that harmony for me is knowing that I had to face my fears. And facing fear sometimes means pushing past our fears and doing something righteous and good. Spiritual life begins with understanding, encountering, and dealing with fear and suffering.

Fear after, all is, that which stifles our spiritual growth in life. Fear pushes us away from the Self. Fear also prevents us from taking risks to grow and experience life. It is the obstacle that stands in the way of healing. Healing, by the way, doesn't mean necessarily healing of the body. It does, though, mean healing the heart.

Pain and Fear as the Teacher

Oftentimes as I lay in my hospital bed and thought about the real possibility that I never would walk again, I realized as long as I was afraid of being wheelchair-bound, I was afraid of envisioning and seeing my life. Not just life in a wheelchair, but my life in its entirety. Oftentimes as I lay in bed, I was in limbo and did not have any answers to many questions that surfaced. I confess that that was really scary. My quandary was brought on by my fear of being incapacitated. I couldn't move without help and every attempt to move brought on more pain. I wondered how long this would go on.

My previous encounters with pain in general were intense, but did not last for days and weeks on end. Having my body crushed brought on a whole new awareness of pain -- the intense variety of long duration. I had no real experience of constant pain that wears you down. Literally, it wore me down. Even with good pain management, it was always there, gnawing at my insides, demanding my attention and continually quietly clawing at my insides day and night.

In time, I learned that pain is an astounding teacher. And in order to deal with the pain that is beyond what medication can touch, I had to cultivate and differentiate different levels and parts of awareness within me. I very much relied on a technique that I learned from various Hassidic masters. The technique called Hisbonnenut (Contemplative Meditation) or Hashkatah, (Silencing The Conscious Mind) allowed me to focus my attention more toward the consciousness of my soul rather than my everyday conscious ego experience. I learned through time that that is where the pain takes up residence. And that the deeper I experienced my pain and fear the more I saw that it clouded my conscious awareness which included the view I had of me and the world, and the view I held of myself when I thought I was in control.

Obviously, I reached a point where living with pain and fear was intolerable. It took away my equanimity and challenged my clarity. I had to do something with my life that was now in the category of "things I could not change.

Hisbonnenut went from teachings that I always found interesting and that I had even worked with to taking what I had learned from Masters and really putting it into practice.

This is what I mean -- that pain and fear are the teachers. There was no way I could avoid their message. It was, after all, a 24-hour-a-day message. So, on one side of me I had the message grinding a way at me. On the other side, I had spiritual practices that I had known about for years that now had to come off the practice shelf and be brought onto the field of life.

The beauty of being caught in the middle of this is that I was faced with what I love to call the only alternative and its other possibilities. I had to face this challenge alone, as I am certain those of you reading this who have been down a similar path know so very well. There really comes a time in life when things in the fear and/or pain department become so stretched that you have to act. There is no other choice. In fact, you have run out of options. You know -- you tried everything. The only way out, then, is up.

Copyright ©2000 Rabbi Yehudah Fine