Its sort of known. We hear about it. And wonder about it and hear the stories of other who have suffered greatly and in their suffering found great joy, or a depth of peace that transforms their life.

That is the all this message is. To point to that. To gently and delicately suggest that inside the depths of suffering there is some extraordinary key. That key opens the door to a world that is free of suffering, while being in the midst of it. Where there is a palpable sense of support, of softness, of open alive freedom. Of simple relaxation, of the field in Psalm 91 where I may lay down and rest.

This is my story,my life, my journey through pain to stillness. Through the exploration and experience of my relationship to pain is where I have found freedom. Like many keys to the mystery of life on the surface it just doesn’t make sense. On the surface the statement that pain and suffering can be a path, a way, a master key to joy, happiness and liberation seems bizarre.

This process has not been consciously designed, but seems like some intelligence beyond my understanding has placed me in this body to have these experiences. I didn’t consciously look for freedom inside the pain, or looking for relaxation or the alleviation of pain.

Through my life, through the situations, the experiences, the events that just unfolded I was fortunate time and time again to be placed in the heat of the kitchen, in the frying pan. Not through choice, I hated it, I hated the heat of the kitchen with a fury. I hated the suffering, I hated the surgery, the pain, the cutting, the needles, the torture. Again and again as a small child, and teenager I learnt to accept it. I learnt to find a way through it where I could relax. Where I could open, where there was trust, even in the midst of it. This has been my path and my journey, and continues now. I was given the opportunity time and time again to either crumble and dissolve or enter through the ground of the experience into the ground of love.

I did both. I crumbled and dissolved. I screamed. I fought. I smashed things. I hated. I vocalize hatred to those I loved. Ultimately I was directing my hatred towards the source of all this pain, not just the physical pain, but the ultimate betrayal of being left alone. The complete and utter injustice of that. Of what felt like repetitive torture with no end, with no reason, with no cause. Why was the call from within my soul.

Why me? What have I done?

Alone again and again throughout my childhood. Tortured by strange people, those situations and events repeated themselves and I resisted with all my might. Each time the news came, or the illness, or the advice that something had to be done, that I had to go to hospital, to have yet another operation. I fought like hell, I hated with a vengeance, I crumbled. I dissolved into a puddle, I gave up.

Somehow through that fact, that surrender, that giving up, the murmur spoke to me.

Relax. Trust. Rest in this black, dark night…