Emotional and physical pain are often messengers from the soul that have much to teach us. I remember working the 3-11 pm shift as a rehab associate at a Harvard-affiliated pain center in my twenties. While the center taught patients to focus off of their chronic pain, through physical therapy, relaxation methods, biofeedback, hydrotherapy, and massage, I developed a Pain Imagery technique that gently guided people into their pain and its wisdom.

The process was simple: relax with progressive muscle relaxation, focus on the painful area, and see if it has a shape, color, or sound. Ask it why it is there and if it has a message for you. Pain responses were often remarkably wise. Patients shifted from hating their pain, to appreciating and learning from it; what used to be an enemy, became an ally and a friend.

A pro football player’s excruciating sciatica required him to use a wheelchair. HIs pain taught him “In your life, you always give 150%, even in the first quarter. I’m going to keep hurting you until you listen to your limits and slow down.” His pain reduced by 75% after one session and as he learned to slow down, the pain only returned when he over-taxed himself.

A therapist with incapacitating leg pain was angry and resisted every component of the pain program—the medical director was about to discharge him for being so uncooperative. I asked this man if he would be willing to try the pain imagery process, and he agreed.

To his astonishment, he discovered that his leg pain was connected to repressed memories of severe emotional and physical childhood abuse. He said “I had no idea this pain was old stored emotions,” and wept in grief and relief. His pain reduced by 80% and he became a transformed person, emanating kindness to everyone on the unit. He even created and led a wonderful pain support group for the patients!

An elderly cancer patient was brought to our pain rehab unit because there was no room for him on the oncology floor and he was in terrible pain. One night I gently guided him into the pain, and during the imagery process he began to smile. He told me the pain had transformed into brilliant spheres of angelic light, that he felt very calm and peaceful, and that he was pain-free. He intuited that the Light would soon be welcoming him Home, and he had nothing to fear. When I returned the next day on the evening shift, his hospital room was empty—he had died peacefully during the night.

Many nights I left the pain unit deeply moved by these profound Pain Imagery journeys and the great honor it was to be a witness and guide. Our symptoms have much to teach us, when we become still, present, and listen.