You are facing challenges most people never experience. I suspect that how we deal with pain or the anticipation of pain is written deep in our unique personalities. I can only tell you what works for me. First, if I don’t know if something is going to be painful I have learned to see that anticipated pain as a notion no different from any other thought I might conjure. For pain I have, I have learned to study it. To “look closely” at the place where there is pain and examine how it is painful, what the pain really feels like. To welcome it as an interesting experience. This works especially well with pain I know to be transient and well contained. Fear of potential pain, for me, makes the actual pain much worse. Study your pain and you may find its bark is far worse than it’s bite.

You have been molding your inner life for as long as I've known you. You are a creative and gentle artist of your soul and the beauty and dignity of your artistry blesses me and I'm sure almost everyone who knows you.

Sending you some healing palm Michael! Take it, let It make things soft and smooth and run joyfully. Love, marybeth

Any man who admits to being soft and to crying, is a friend of mine. And, of the world. Michael, your asking for help as you acknowledge your fear expands the definition of American manhood. For that, I honor you.

Speaking for myself and for the world, we join you as you face yet another procedure.

You have so many wonderful friends and we are all with you in this adventure, and we will be with you tomorrow. I was especially touched by the comment left several below about the person who found the frightened injured woodpecker and was able to cup it safely in compassionate hands! And tomorrow we will hold you cupped in our compassionate hands. . .

Michael, my heart is so with you, as much as it can be. I hope you can feel that, swimming, standing, walking right along side you, running and surrendering. A friend who runs marathons told me once (as a non runner) that the trick is in recovery, learning how to rest and find respite in the midst of it. I hear you doing that, here in sharing your story in the midst of the stream. Safe travels and return.

We are all already in the stream with you, Michael. The river of life keeps pulling us forward, and it doesn't end with this life. As Etty said, it's eternal. Separation is an illusion. Praying for your successful surgery tomorrow and your safe return home soon and to the river.

Thanks for the reminder about Etty Hillesum! What a powerful model for transformative suffering. Your shared journey continues to be a gift.

I'm not sure why, but in this moment, I am remembering my childhood and a time spent with my cousin at my granparent's farm. We found an injured baby woodpecker in the barn. Frightened, the creature tried to flee but had nowhere to go nor the ability to fly (or even move that well) in that moment. I wasn't sure at the time, as a child, what was the right way to respond. I was afraid of its fear, afraid of injuring it more, and questioned the unknown consequences of my actions or potentially inaction. But I chose to respond in the only way that felt right at the time. I gently lifted the bird into my cupped hands. It didn't fight nor attempt to flee. I was incredibly aware of the sacredness of the moment and the compassion I felt for this wild and vulnerable creature - I can still vividly remember holding its body, the labor it took to live, to breathe. I realized at that time - regardless of outcome - we only had that moment. And I wanted it to feel love and not be alone. It was profound. It still lingers with me. Tomorrow morning, I will be imagining and visioning the wild bird cupped in loving hands and beliving in compassion, healing and hope.

Thank you, Michael, for sharing these powerful images. I'm visualizing that broad eternal stream, wide and wise, light and loving as our steady, strong, supportive Mississippi. I'm praying for that stream to surround and be present to you and all of us, with the woods just beyond the banks.