Monday, October 31, 2016

"Don't Cry Because It's Over. Smile Because It Happened."



Those nine words by Ted Geisel (Dr.Seuss), one of our country’s favorite storytellers, contain so much wisdom. They apply to many different aspects of life, but I would like to focus on the area of relationships. Most of us are going to have relationships end at some point in our lives, whether they are marriages, partners, friends, relatives or any other type of relationship. People leave, or die, and it hurts. What to do with the hurt?

There is a person that has been in contact with Barry and me who had a relationship end in a hurtful way. This individual is so hurt and does not know how to handle the pain of this situation. The feeling of rejection seems overwhelming. The other person has walked away and there is no negotiation. For this person, it is over and there is no desire for contact.

Dr. Seuss’s words give great wisdom. Many people are stuck in the feeling that “it is over.” But the way out of the pain is to remember the good and feel grateful. The feeling of gratitude will open a door to your heart and allow the feeling of love to enter. When a person ruminates over all of the details of the ending, they stay in the pain, and it can even become worse with time. The best thing to do is to feel gratitude. Write down the things you can appreciate about having been with this person. Even sending the list to the person (if still alive) can be very healing. In this way you are transitioning the relationship in a very conscious and loving way. If the person never responds to your letter and expression of gratitude, still you have reached out. The expressed gratitude will free you to go on with your life and even open to a new relationship or friendship. There is the great saying, “Whenever one door closes, another door opens.”

One of my very favorite stories is from Leo Buscaglia, who was my teacher at USC in 1971 when I was 25 years old. I was in his master’s degree course, and most of my classes were with him. He was beyond wonderful, and taught me many valuable lessons that I still cherish to this day. My favorite class was an extra, no credit class called, “LOVE.” Anyone in the university could attend this class. Perhaps fifty students came each week. Leo taught about love. He was the only professor teaching about this subject in a university in all of the United States. Those of us who chose to attend the class absolutely loved it. He was teaching us how to reach out and really love people in a heartfelt person-to-person way. He had wonderful ideas and could back it up with great literature. His favorite was “The Little Prince.” He had us practice appreciating people, seeing beauty in each other, expressing gratitude, and writing letters to our family with messages of love. There was such a beautiful energy in the room each time he gave the class that I felt as though I could just float I felt so high and happy.

He was really the first person to acknowledge that my sensitivity was actually a beautiful thing and that he appreciated that side of me very much. Up until he spoke to me in that way, I had felt ashamed of my sensitive nature. He had a way of acknowledging his students and, sometimes like in my case, he saw beauty and strength where others saw weakness. Those of us in the class were opening so beautifully under his teachings.

One day I had an appointment with him at his office in the university. While I waited for him, I could not help but overhear the voices of three men that had come to meet with him before me. They spoke in loud harsh voices, and told Leo that he could not teach his love class any more. They told him it was an embarrassment to the university, and he had to stop immediately. This was nonnegotiable. They walked out soon after that pronouncement. I felt so sad for my beloved teacher. Here he was giving of himself on his free time to teach this wonderful class, and it was rejected. He must feel so hurt.

I walked into his office when the secretary told me to go and I tried to think of how I might cheer him up. Indeed he looked very sad. But his words surprised me, “I feel so sad for those three men that were just here. I have so much love to give and they do not want it.” His sadness was not for himself, but for those university officials. He saw what they were missing by rejecting what he had to offer.

Shortly after that, Leo left the university. I do not know if he was asked to leave, or if he just left. He went on to become one of the most popular speakers in the United States and other countries, with crowds of over 10,000 people at each talk that he gave. He gave his love class to the world, and they received it with great enthusiasm. He wrote five books about love which were on the New York Times best seller list. .

Whenever I start to feel rejected by someone, I think of Leo and his words, “I feel so sad for them, as I have so much love to give.” And also I think of Dr. Seuss’s advice to all of us, “Remember to smile that it happened.” Acknowledging that we are beautiful and have much love to give, as well as expressing gratitude, can bring a person out of the pain of seeming rejection.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world's top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of The Shared Heart, Models of Love, Risk to Be Healed, The Heart’s Wisdom, Meant to Be, and A Mother’s Final Gift.

Call Toll-Free 831-684-2299 or write to the Shared Heart Foundation, P.O. Box 2140, Aptos, CA 95001, for further information on counseling sessions by phone or in person, their books, recordings or their schedule of talks and workshops. Visit their web site at SharedHeart.org for their free monthly e-heartletter, their updated schedule, and inspiring past articles on many topics about relationship and living from the heart.

"The Courage to Ask for Help"



I have to admit. I have a hard time asking for help. I have that “false pride” thing about being able to do it myself, that if I have to ask for help, it means I’m helpless. It makes me think about the two year old who proclaims, “I can do it myself!” And now that I’m on the other side of the life spectrum, at age seventy, it means even more to me to be able to still do things by myself. A recent weekend brought all of this into the light.

I pulled our 19 foot sailboat up to Lake Tahoe to experience sailing and camping on the largest alpine lake in North America. Yes, I was alone. I would have preferred that Joyce accompany me, but she wanted to stay home and help with our daughter, Mira’s, newborn son. And I have a need for occasional solo adventures.

By the time I launched, I had only a few hours of daylight left. The wind had died down, so I started my outboard motor and headed toward a small beach I found on the map. I didn’t get very far. The motor sputtered and died. I couldn’t get it started again. When I pulled on the starter cord, the little flashing red light proclaimed “low oil.” I forgot to check the oil level before launching. Did I have extra engine oil stored in the boat? Of course not!

A very faint breeze allowed me to inch into a private boat harbor and tie up to the only vacant mooring buoy as darkness was descending (a miracle in itself). I slept that night in the boat.

In the morning, I saw a boat leaving the harbor. Perhaps they might have some engine oil. I only needed a small amount, maybe half a cup, to allow me to start the motor. But that would require asking for help, flagging them down by waving my hands, inconveniencing them, showing my helplessness.

I swallowed my pride, flagged them down, and asked the young man for oil. He didn’t have any, but gave me a ride to the dock, where I could walk a half hour to a small convenience store. On the way to the store, I practiced asking for help/oil a few more times without success. I did notice, however, that most people were very nice, wanting to help even though they couldn’t. They felt needed, and that brought out their best.

I bought a quart of engine oil at the store, walked back to the dock, got another ride out to my boat (more asking for help), and added the oil to my motor. I got it started, but just barely, and headed across the vast lake to an area of small, more hidden, pocket beaches. As long as I squeezed the primer bulb hard and continuously, I could keep the motor running. Obviously, the low oil was not the problem. There was something else wrong with the motor.

I kept waiting for the wind to pick up, so I wouldn’t be so dependent on the motor but, alas, it was not to be. No wind the entire day! And hard to believe on such a huge lake!

My hands were cramped and exhausted from all the squeezing when I saw a cute little beach. About a hundred feet offshore, the motor finally died. I pulled and pulled on the starter cord with no success. Finally I jumped into the lake, holding a length of rope attached to the bow, and started pulling the boat to shore. Amazingly, a man on the beach called out, “Do you need any help?” At that particular moment, however, I was actually doing just fine, and enjoying being in the cool lake water. Another part of me silently added, “Barry, you just missed another opportunity to ask for help, whether you could do it yourself or not!”

The next morning dawned practically windless again and I decided to end my trip and get back to the boat ramp as soon as possible. I pushed off from shore and, while again inching at a snail’s pace from the beach, tried to start the engine. Nothing! I kept at it. For three hours I pulled on that starter cord, trying every trick I could. I’m amazed the cord didn’t break, leaving me in much worse condition. And all the while, I hoped the wind would finally come up. But that was not to be.

I practiced asking for a tow from other boats that passed, but no one offered that level of help. I called a boat towing company who was happy to help, for $375! I told him I’d call him back.

Finally it dawned on me. Not in all this time had I even had the thought to ask for divine help. I pray for divine help every day. I pray that Joyce and I can continue to be instruments of peace and love with our books and events. I pray that I can learn to trust God in all things, big and small. I pray for the well-being of our children and now grandchildren. But to pray for an outboard motor? Didn’t even cross my mind.

But why not? Nothing is too small or insignificant for the angels, those heavenly helpers. I let go of the starter cord, placed my hands on the motor, and asked the angels for their all-powerful help. I asked sincerely, then gave thanks for their help. I pulled the cord once more.

The motor instantly roared to life. I had to laugh at the odds of that happening. I yanked on that starter cord maybe a thousand times with no success, said one prayer to the angels, and voila! What a lesson! I could almost imagine a group of angels sitting around just waiting for me to ask them for help, perhaps having this conversation,

“Any asking yet?”
“No, he’s still pulling on that cord, trying to do it himself.”
“How many hours has it been now, in Earth time?”
“Hey, wait. He’s asking us for help. Finally! Okay, who wants to bless that motor?”

I sincerely hope I can once and for all learn the joy of asking for help, from people and from angels, from those I can see and from those I can’t see. I hope I can remember how much joy it gives others to help me. And I hope I can remember that problem size doesn’t matter, that I can feel my dependence on God and the angels in all situations.

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world's top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of The Shared Heart, Models of Love, Risk to Be Healed, The Heart’s Wisdom, Meant to Be, and A Mother’s Final Gift.

Call Toll-Free 831-684-2299 or write to the Shared Heart Foundation, P.O. Box 2140, Aptos, CA 95001, for further information on counseling sessions by phone or in person, their books, recordings or their schedule of talks and workshops. Visit their web site at SharedHeart.org for their free monthly e-heartletter, their updated schedule, and inspiring past articles on many topics about relationship and living from the heart.

"The Blessing of Differences"



Our son got married a few days ago to Isaiah, the man of his dreams. Hardly ever in our work with couples have we seen such depth in love, respect and commitment. Whoever feels that only a man and a woman can truly love each other, has not witnessed the kind of deep love that Isaiah and our son, John-Nuri, have had for each other for the past four years. Love truly can take on many forms.

Even with such depth of love in their relationship, Isaiah and John-Nuri have big differences. They have used these differences to fuel their relationship, to bring about more depth, and to find the common place of passion in their work together. People sometimes use their differences as an excuse for their lack of closeness. And yet these differences can be a great blessing, and almost force a couple to go to a deeper place where the differences do not exist. Difference exist only on the surface. The couple that goes deeper discovers more and more similarities. Differences exist in the mind. Love and similarity exist in the heart.

Our son is the third born of three children, coming much later than his two sisters. He was adored and fussed over by all four of us. Much of our family time was spent outside, hiking, backpacking, river trips, camping and traveling in the wilderness. John-Nuri worked as a river guide by the time he was sixteen, and spent much of his summers on the river, sleeping on the ground under the stars. Isaiah was the first born to a very young African American teenage mother who could not care for him. He was raised by his grandparents who loved him very much, and yet Isaiah often felt like he had to take care of himself. Several times as a young child, Isaiah saw things no child should have, and was in dangerous situations. Isaiah does not really feel safe outside, though he is opening up to this with John-Nuri’s help. His idea of a great day is spending the whole day inside, even if it sunny outside. Isaiah’s diet consists of meat. Our son is a devoted vegetarian like us.

Isaiah and John-Nuri have some pretty big differences, but these differences have forced them to go deeper in their love and commitment to the place where the differences do not exist. As far as I can see, they keep returning to this deeper place, and each gives the other the freedom to be who they are. John-Nuri spends time each day outside and Isaiah enjoys the beauty of their home which he has elaborately decorated. They do not put much attention on the differences, and instead keep going deeper in their love to the place where there is unity.  

When Barry and I met, we soon realized we had a very big difference that seemed insurmountable. Barry was raised in a traditional Jewish home and had his bar mitzvah. I was raised in a traditional Christian home and was confirmed in the church at the same time as Barry’s bar mitzvah. We met in the year 1964 on the east coast. Every one told us that our differences were too big, and we should end the relationship right away. Barry even took my hand the day we found out our religious difference and with much seriousness said, “You know we can never get married!”  

And yet, even at the young age of eighteen, we took our love deeper than the difference. We stayed in this beautiful place until someone would comment that we would never make it as a couple, that the difference was just too big. Then we would go back into our minds and try and figure out a solution. Since we could not, we felt we should break up, and actually did that one time for four months. It was an agonizing time for each of us.  

When we were both twenty two, Barry was in his first year of medical school in Tennessee, and we wanted to get married and live together forever. At the time that we got engaged, not one person believed we could make it as a couple. In looking for a person to marry us, we asked the minister of my parents’ church, Reverend Davis. He sat us down for a very serious talk and said to us, “I will marry you on one condition. You must promise to honor each other’s differences. These differences are important to who you both are, and by honoring your differences you will grow stronger in your love.”

That compassionate man gave us the advice, wisdom and belief that we desperately needed. He learned the Hebrew prayers to honor Barry, and married us in the most beautiful way, honoring both religions. Barry and I went deeper than the initial difference and found a strength that shapes and inspires us to this day. What was our biggest difference is now our biggest strength.

If one person has an addiction and is unwilling to work on that addiction, then it is impossible to go deeper to a place where the difference does not exist. The addiction must be handled first and, if there is unwillingness, then the relationship has little chance of survival. The same is true of betrayal, violence and lying. But differences beyond these can be a great blessing, giving the relationship the fuel and incentive to go deeper.

Some people we have seen in our couple’s workshops seem identical in many ways. Perhaps they are both the first born into very similar families. Perhaps they both took the same type of family vacations, went to similar schools, studied similar things, and have the same interests. Seems perfect right? And yet without some significant differences, there can be a tendency to keep things on the surface, and just rest on how similar they are. Soon their relationship can fall into a place of boredom. Because there are no obvious differences to force them into a deeper place, they must take the initiative and go to the deeper place on their own. Some couples do this and some do not.

Honor differences and trust that they can bring about a great blessing in all of your relationships. Differences invite us to a deeper place of love, where we can stand in the way of harmony, peace and beauty.  

Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world's top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of The Shared Heart, Models of Love, Risk to Be Healed, The Heart’s Wisdom, Meant to Be, and A Mother’s Final Gift.

Call Toll-Free  831-684-2299 or write to the Shared Heart Foundation, P.O. Box 2140, Aptos, CA 95001, for further information on counseling sessions by phone or in person, their books, recordings or their schedule of talks and workshops. Visit their web site at SharedHeart.org for their free monthly e-heartletter, their updated schedule, and inspiring past articles on many topics about relationship and living from the heart.

"The Cosmic Mass: Risking to Follow Inner Promptings"



“Our minds map out a neat, perfect little road for life and we hate to have it changed in any way. Yet that perfect little road may completely by-pass our goal of God-realization.” 
–Barry and Joyce Vissell, The Shared Heart

Joyce and I have written before about the importance of taking risks to follow inner guidance, to listen to those sometimes subtle promptings that can change our lives. If it were up to our minds, we might never take these risks. If we want to follow the higher path of life, we need to not only listen but also act on these inner promptings. They may make no sense to our minds, but they will make sense to our hearts, our divine minds. There is a story I’ve never written, a risk I took many years ago that completely changed the course of both of our lives.

In 1974, we were finishing a pilgrimage that had lasted two years. Together, we traveled the world, always searching for spiritual teachers. One highlight of this time period was a whole summer studying Sufism with Pir Vilayat Khan at a camp high up in the French Alps.

In the autumn, we were staying in Santa Cruz, CA, but made the decision to move back up to Oregon. Shortly before leaving, someone told us that Pir Vilayat was leading a weekend retreat in San Francisco, an hour and a half north, and therefore on our way to Oregon.

We left in our VW bus to attend the retreat, always happy to spend time with this Sufi master. At the end of the retreat, Pir Vilayat shared his vision of The Cosmic Mass, a celebration of the unity of the world’s major religions. His creation would involve a theater in the round, with five stages simultaneously portraying some of the major events in five of the world’s major religions. In the center would be a seven-level stage, corresponding to the seven levels of heaven. The famous Sufi Choir and Orchestra would perform all the music. It was to be a spectacular pageant, at a major theater in the Bay Area – in three months!

Joyce and I looked at one another sadly. We were leaving to head north the following morning.

Then Pir Vilayat asked for all the men in the audience who wanted a role in the Cosmic Mass to come up onto the stage. Without thinking, I stood up and started walking toward the stage. I vaguely remember Joyce calling out, “Barry, what are you doing? We’re leaving tomorrow morning!

Still, I couldn’t explain the pull to walk up on that stage. However, when I got there, I started to feel foolish. My mind kicked in, and I thought, “This is ridiculous!”

There were probably a hundred men crowded on the stage, with Pir Vilayat sitting on his stool on the edge of the stage, eyes closed and face tilted upward, perhaps meditating on the different roles he envisioned. I quickly hid behind all the men, embarrassed, hoping he wouldn’t see me.

A long time passed by, an agonizingly long time. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. I peeked out from behind some heads until I could see Pir Vilayat. And wouldn’t you know it, at that very instant he opened his eyes and looked directly at me. Then his hand came up with his finger pointing at me, and he announced, “Jesus!”

I had just been cast in one of the major roles of the Cosmic Mass. Talk about a change of plans!

After Pir Vilayat finished casting the men, I went back to my seat next to Joyce. She had every right to be annoyed at me. After all, I didn’t consult with her first before casting our plans to the wind and going up to the stage. She didn’t know what happened on the stage. She had a curious, but bewildered expression.

Then I told her Pir Vilayat chose me to be Jesus! 

She smiled at me warmly, but didn’t have time to say anything. The next moment, Pir Vilayat called up all the women who wanted parts, and Joyce stood up. She hesitated for a moment, and I gave her a gentle push. That was enough to send her down the aisle toward the stage.

Pir Vilayat chose Joyce to be the Mother of the World, to sit on the highest level of the stage and, veiled together with the Father of the World, meditate, sending out waves of peace from the highest heaven.

We returned to Santa Cruz and rented a house. We didn’t want to stay in the San Francisco Bay Area. Instead, we commuted. So the Cosmic Mass is the reason we live near Santa Cruz to this day. Life-changing? Yes, but that’s not the main thing.

It was the rehearsing that really changed both of our lives. There was the outer rehearsing, practicing for the actual performance. But then there was the inner rehearsing. Pir Vilayat was very clear with Joyce and me. “Your full-time job,” he said to me, “is to fully immerse yourself in the life and being of Jesus. You are to become Jesus, feel what he feels, do what he does.” And to Joyce, “You are to become the Mother of the World, the female aspect of God. Let every meditation be an act of compassion for the world.”

A tall order. Yes, indeed. Those three months launched Joyce and me into a profound spiritual practice. Being raised Jewish, there was much I needed to learn about Jesus. I read everything I could find, from the Bible to The Aquarian Gospel. Even with my day job as a doctor, learning about and being Jesus did become my other full-time job for three months. It’s not that I became a Christian. My current spirituality embraces practices from many different traditions. But, for three months, I became Jesus, which has truly changed my life.

Then came the evening of the performances, three of them in one evening, with massive crowds, including the governor of California at the time, Jerry Brown, Sr. As long as I live, I will never forget that evening. The first and second performance, although beautiful, I was still aware of playing the part of Jesus. Then came the third performance. I was no longer aware of playing a part. The energy of Jesus came through me. It was truly sublime! In the final scene, my ascension, I climbed up the seven-level stage in the center and approached Joyce. But it wasn’t Joyce. Instead, through the thin veil, I beheld Divine Mother, the highest aspect of the feminine. And in one glorious moment, I was united with Joyce, not as man and woman, but as divine beings, the highest moment of our lives thus far.

We risked listening to an inner prompting, and it changed the course of the rest of our lives!


Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world's top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of The Shared Heart, Models of Love, Risk to Be Healed, The Heart’s Wisdom, Meant to Be, and A Mother’s Final Gift.

Call Toll-Free 831-684-2299 or write to the Shared Heart Foundation, P.O. Box 2140, Aptos, CA 95001, for further information on counseling sessions by phone or in person, their books, recordings or their schedule of talks and workshops. Visit their web site at SharedHeart.org for their free monthly e-heartletter, their updated schedule, and inspiring past articles on many topics about relationship and living from the heart.