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Live, Joy and Wait©By Jack Schimmelman

It happens. One day you are healthy, experiencing all of the mundane

travails of life thinking this is good that is bad, but essentially clueless,when suddenly you enter your shadow. You are very sick. Family,friends, lover all fade from focus leaving you in the center of an emptyache. With me it started with a doctor’s unintentional push down Jacob’s ladder when he recommended a contraindicated medication. Mystairway to heaven morphed into a descent to hell.

I don’t know how many people in this country are seriously ill, butfunctioning; never mind the souls of billions who collectively inhabitplanet and imaginations. I began to be aware of a shared fate only aftermy inelegant entrance into life’s dark silhouette that tugs at us all. That

began in 2008. Literally, one day healthy, the next, practically dying. Iknow now that I am not unique in this regard. Since that first day I havemet many others radiating grey.

I was angry. This doctor, this stranger who I had never met before (norsince) – how could he make me so sick? Who gave him the right to havesuch power? I was furious for a long time. Like a wounded dog, Ifrantically tried to understand what was happening to my body. I keptfunctioning. For decades I had witnessed and admired animals survivingagainst all odds. Now I was that animal. I didn’t admire anything aboutmyself. Only later did I recognize that this was the biggest gift I had

ever received. Ah, the kindness of strangers! Even strange doctors.

I was forced to search within. I wasn’t getting any help from the medicalestablishment. No one cared or believed me, except for my partner whounderstood the profound consequence of my status and becamedesperate to keep me breathing. I did not understand. My mask of disbelief prevented me from understanding. There is nothing heroicabout being ill. I simply wish to keep breathing. I am a coward. Icannot begin to count the nights when the excruciating, 24-hour painmade me fantasize a quick exit.

But then I told you this was a gift. How crazy is that? This crazy. Beingthis ill is being disempowered. Doctors, friends, even the people in thesupermarket who stare at you, all believe you are going to die. Somesay it out loud. Many think it. Some delight that it’s someone else andnot them. Those people find it difficult to hide their celebration. Therewas only one thing I could do and that was begin my empowerment. I

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did not awaken and say, “Ok, Jack, you are going to be powerful today”in spite of all the bad news, pain and suffering that is engulfing my core.

I surreptitiously move towards life. It is hidden from my thoughts. I amnot mindful. I am mindless.

 The first thing I sought was a healer, preferably an MD who had accessto many levels of healing. I was drawn to Traditional Chinese Medicine(“TCM”), which is essentially acupuncture and herbs. Then you realizethat the medicine is only as good as the practitioner. And I understoodthat my doctor had his own agenda.

 Then you do your own research. My partner, who is quite brilliant,frantically researches my condition. She even has visions. But nothingworks. I fast. I eat. I exercise. I meditate. In short I do everything Ican to feel better to not feel pain.

I can’t tell you when I realized that what I was going through was aspiritual awakening. I am not cool. I am awkward. I am pudgy, curlyheaded and from the Bronx, a very unhip origin. I have indulged in anart form that made me a better person, but I cannot tell you if I madethe art form better. I blunder, I get angry, I get happy. In short, I amhuman. Nothing less. Nothing more. Despite my average place on thecontinuum I somehow began to understand that nothing outside couldheal me and that my body was showing me one singular image – payattention!!! I had lived in my head for decades and now I could nolonger afford to do so. One thing about spiritual journeys is that they

are not sexy. They are not brilliant. I did not become peaceful. Norgroovy, cool. On the contrary as I careened from one crisis to another, Ibecame more agitated. Nevertheless, against all odds, within my walls Iwas slowing down. I noticed. Chaos segued into patterns of meaning.And although the pain remained and at times my biology seemed tohave a mind of its own, the one thing I learned was that I could controlmy thoughts, my vision. Empowerment.

Suffering made me a better father. Made me a better partner. Mademe a better brother. Suffering has made me better and I resent the shitout of this path. I believe with all that I know and experienced that we

choose our paths. I, like billions of others, chose mine(d) in a senselessmanner. Yet, this has been my path and designed for me alone.Ironically, this unique trail has made me acutely aware of everythingthat I share with all of life, whether that be other people, nature, thesolar system and beyond. I breathe with some comfort knowing that istrue. And please understand, when I say knowing, I do not meansomething I have read in some nouveau new age book, or experiencedat the feet of a great teacher (although I have been blessed in this

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regard), but rather knowing from my quotidian experience. Life is mymaster.

Still, there is only one thing that makes sense in life. Joy. That’s it. Weget glimmers of this whenever we laugh, love, eat a good meal, look in

the eyes of our children, our lovers, our pets. Then it goes away. That isthe paradox. It has taken tremendous suffering, two near deathexperiences to bring me to this simple conclusion. Joy. I hurt. I sit.Wait.

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