The Prophet of Pain, Transformation and Transmutation


My name is, "Lawrence Gold". The name has a meaning, and not a fanciful meaning, but a literal one.

The name, "Lawrence" translates (from the dictionary) as "laurel wreathed, triumphant". Look it up.
The laurel wreath, bestowed upon the winner of the race or competition, is also found in portraits of Julius Caesar.

The name, "Gold", was originally, "Golod" -- the Russian word for, "hunger". With my grandparents' immigration to the U.S.A. in 1917, an immigration official recorded the name as, "Gold" -- thus, our family name went from "hunger" to "gold".

My own life was not given to me "laurel wreathed" or "triumphant", as you will read, below. Rather, it has been characterized by afflictions, sorrows, and pain. The triumph, if we would call it that, has been in the transmutation or transformation of those pains and afflictions into a greater wholeness, in the development of the means or methods of that transmutation and transformation.


I'm not going to give you the humbug that, "pain is a learning experience".

Pain is a sign of too much dysfunction, dysfunction confronting the limit of our tolerance.

Pain is an insult and a challenge. It says, "Somethin's gotta change!" It's not a learning experience; it's a goad to a learning experience -- provided you have the means to change and the recognition of what you need to change (a tall order, in itself, on this benighted and tragic planet, where people are made to suffer without a way out, largely controlled by mentally clever but emotionally immature fools with a thirst for power over others, but not control of their own state of body, emotions and mind).

I consider myself to have "come in" (to Life Existence) in a worse, that is to say, in a more massive compounding of painful conditions -- dysfunctional conditions leading to painful events in life and failures of various stages of development -- than most people. That may be presumptuous, on my part, but in general, I somehow doubt that most people have lived in the state of compound dysfunction at the depth at which I have lived it. I could be wrong, but I've had to do an awful lot of work to get to the level of emotional equilibrium that most people seem to enjoy.

I am very nearsighted; my prescription was, at one point, -10 diopters. That's 20/1000.

My elbows can never straighten completely, due to limitations of the elbow joints, and that affects my movement.

The tops of my ears look as if singed or melted, like wax.

I have a ringing in my ears that I've had since childhood, that never goes away.

I've gone through periods of intense pain, both physical and emotional.

Physical pain:  back muscle spasms, sciatica, sacro-iliac joint dysfunction, whiplash injuries, a self-inflicted "gripping injury" in the right side of my neck and upper back that prevented me from turning my head right or left or forward, without searing pain down my upper back; a fall from a second story balcony onto concrete (managing to land on my feet), being hit by a car on my bicycle, and other bicycle falls; and roller skating accidents in which I fell or tripped over garden hoses across the sidewalk (twice), rolling out of control, staggering to avoid falling, and landing hard on my sit-me-down, causing pain I never dreamed could exist in a place I didn't know I had, until that moment.

Emotional pain: grew up in a family mostly devoid of empathy or emotional engagement, with one short-tempered parent and another, disengaged, feeling isolated most of the time, socially isolated from my peer group, required to take piano lessons, confined to the hated piano bench in the afternoons after school, to practice, while the other boys called for me to play, outside, were told that I would not be coming out because I was practicing piano; frequently bullied and anxious in school, never got a valentine on Valentine's Day; subject to night terrors, chaotic altered states, and nightmares; sexually molested more than once -- by a neighbor boy and by a female babysitter.

I was an intellectually, musically, and verbally gifted kid, a fair-haired boy (blond) who liked classical music and science and who read the World Book Encyclopedia set cover to cover, who had an active imagination and who went into reverie when contemplating a picture of the planet, Saturn, projected onto the closet doors of his darkened bedroom.

I could have been named, Poindexter, but instead, one of the boys who bullied me called me, Peabody. I was a timid child with no close friends, always the last around the running track, in P.E., always the last picked for team sports. In my teens, my mother forced me to join an encounter group, whose other members, in cliques, mostly ignored me, and where I was once told that I was unlovable. In my teens, my rolfer told me I was the most contracted person he had ever worked with, like concrete, he said.

Thus, I acquired memories -- expectations of life and ways of behaving and of interpreting experiences -- that equipped me, for well or for ill, for life.

I was shaped by many distorted values, controlling-belief traps that I now see impeded me in various ways and that generated unpleasant periods of life in which I was beset by dense, ridiculous and unnecessary problems of self-esteem in relationships, and also confusions, shyness, maladroitness, social-developmental deficiencies, emotional maladaptations and cluelessness. Delayed development. Neurosis. Entrapment. Bondage -- in this world but unlike those in it ... so unlike most persons that people have commented to that effect.

I've been crushed and disintegrated by waves of change going through my life, so that pretty much all that was left functioning in me at times were basic ability to run a household and to do my work, which I continued in my demolished state. I even wrote some of my books of somatic education instruction in the midst of those periods of crushing and rending change -- so I was able to function, after a manner. However, it was grueling.  During one such period, I was in such a crushing vise of stress that my speech patterns were disrupted; I could hardly speak -- meaning, frame thoughts, form words and speak them. Every concept seems to trigger its opposite, putting me into a profound state of internal contradiction. This condition continued for months and its aftermath continued for years.

I have been through several such crushing passages.

One of them was leading up to the period when I took training in my profession.

One early morning, during the second semester of my training, I had a dream that I call, "The Sixty-Thousand Feet" dream. In that dream, I was in the gondola of a hot air balloon, but more like the enclosed cabin of a dirigible. It had portholes, and as I peered out, I saw a carpet of white clouds far below me, with the texture of cottage cheese, and the gondola was spinning and rising, the world whirling by as it continued to rise. I  was at 60,000 feet as it spun out of my control -- sixty-thousand feet, spinning and rising. Imagine what I felt.

I was in the midst of a period of rending tensions and pressures that seized me, in place, and confronted me with a feeling of immobilizing contradiction in my way of living that seemed to allow me no place to rest. It was but the beginning of a long ordeal.

During my training, I was in the grip of those forces -- a dense, dark state of intensity. While I was University preparing for the physical therapy curriculum and wanting to let others know that I "knew the score", I had had a tee-shirt made for myself,  -- a red tee-shirt with words in white on the chest and back: "Too Intense". At the after-training picnic/barbeque, I was asked to take off the tee-shirt and some of the others who had been students with me burned it. Someone said that it was a sign of their regard for me that I wasn't still wearing it, when they burned it.

It was a period of darkness, for me -- of dark imaginings and dark moods, a period of untold stress and distress, a kind of seized-up self-compression that left me desperately wondering how to get out of it. I felt like a marionette controlled by the hands of a cruel puppeteer that made me suffer, haplessly.

At the same time, I was "on fire from within" -- nothing glorious about it or poetical. It was very unpleasant: the feeling was of heat like fire arising in my body core and emanating from my hands, chest, face, and the top of my head. Along with that, I breathed with a kind of spontaneous panting that seemed to be the best way I had to regulate the intensity and internal fire. This went on for months -- or years -- I can't remember.

I was diagnosed with, "awakened kundalini", so I sought help for that. During a "spiritual help" session, I had visions of dogs dancing on bandaged hind legs and of two old men in long-sleeved shirts sitting at a round table under an umbrella, watching. Other than that, there was no discernable result.

I also saw a Buddhist healer and spiritual teacher. She also diagnosed "kundalini" gave me a slip of paper with a mantra, on it, and told me to burn it in a food strainer, wash the strainer with water, and drink the water. I did. It didn't help.

The only periods when I felt wholesome and more normal were when I was working with clients and for some period of hours afterward. I estimated that I had about one "good" day a month.

I've had a MOUNTAIN of stuff to work through, at first with inadequate methods and inadequate help, then with increasingly adequate methods, and later, with much more powerful methods that I developed. Pain drove me to develop and use these methods because the alternative was, to me, intolerable.

A practitioner of Valerie Hunt's "Mindfield work,"  with whom I traded sessions, told me, "It's a wonder you're still alive."

When I was 16, I was guided to yoga and began breathing exercises; people noticed that I seemed more relaxed. That was a bare beginning of a long, hard "row to hoe".
I've lived largely in isolation for years with sporadic contact with others that occurred during forays into town to do errands; my commonest social contact has been in restaurants, with the servers, there, and occasionally, with patrons. Most of my interactions with people have been with clients and occasionally, with colleagues.
Over the years, I studied and participated in transformative teachings and processes, both ancient and leading edge contemporary, in stages of twenty to twenty-five years each, concentrating on self-transformation with increasingly powerful modalities, drilling down into and learning to dissolve my conditioning.
At last, I arrived at the core of my condition-ability -- a set of four powers of intelligence -- attending, intending, remembering and imagining -- that I was discovered underlay all of my life. I called it, The TetraSeed -- "tetra" because there are four operations, and "seed" because the four function as one -- as the seed of all life experience.

From that discovery of the four-part TetraSeed, I developed the TetraSeed Transformation procedures, of which The Gold Key Release -- a way to deprogram self-sabotaging programming and disarm stress -- was the first. I used these procedures relentlessly to uncover and release myself from adverse conditioning, pain and suffering ("pain body" as Eckart Tolle named it), and then introduced them to others, singly and in groups, successfully with all but one person -- who I think just needed individual coaching.

That's why I might be called, The Prophet of Pain.

Using these procedures, I've discovered myself to have been set in weird, unaccountable, patterns of tension -- stress patterns and postural contortions in mutually-interacting and counteracting twists (literally, screwed up), one overlaying another, that I have comprehended them only as I have come out of them. I've been unconsciously holding myself as, and living as, that -- a complex pile-up of contortions -- with only dim and partial recognition of my contorted state, often without any capacity to detect the contortions consciously, at all -- aware only of an inchoate sense of unpleasant, unaccountable, and persistent stress existing in and as my sense of life and myself, for an indeterminate time that faded into obscurity.

If you can identify with the passages of pain I have named, you may also accept the possibility that I'm on to something. Having suffered and counteracted suffering by dissolving the entrapments of experience back into their latent, neutral condition, I have transformed and dissolved much of my born-into condition, and thereby overcome it -- not by imposing its opposite, but by dissolving it into virtual non-existence.

The bad conditioning I have dissolved is now available in a much healthier, balanced, better befitting form, at a moment's notice, as required by the call of experience.

The term one might use is, Spontaneous Right Action.

What has this done? It's upgraded my functioning, altogether. Consider the quality of writing of this piece. It's made me smarter, more creative, more efficient, and more effective, given me a better emotional equilibrium. Now, I like the products of my efforts, better.

It's not so much that I know more (although that's true); rather, it's a change of how I function, naturally; it's new information, new use of information and the transformation of old behavior patterns and ways of feeling; it's a better, more comfortable way to live. I've cleaned myself up and renovated myself, a bunch.

I'm not claiming that I'm through with the process I've been describing. I'm a work-in-progress. I'm claiming that I am onto something that works and have been using it to move through -- transform, correct and dissolve -- mementos of relationships and artifacts of personal history, the inherited heritage of species development and ancestral development that have been a burden upon my back and a snare about my feet.
I've done these awakening-and-dissolution activities in one trouble area of life after another and have been experiencing a trend -- a very long trend -- out of the pain into heightened awareness and enhanced functioning. My worst days, these days, are brighter than my best days, back when.
Even when I'm testy, I sound pleasant.
I've extinguished the sciatica, cleared up the S-I Joint dysfunction to the point where it is a non-issue and still improving*, reversed the effects of neck injuries and the fall from the balcony, better than new.
I've gotten a one-diopter improvement in my glasses.
The ringing in my ears is pleasant, when listened to, like stringed instruments and the sounding of the surf.
I've relieved myself of a bunch of my own witless conditioning.
My relationship with my mother is friendly, even if still subject to frequent loss of temper, on her end.
Now, when I walk, I feel well-put-together and have continued to get better.
I can easily comprehend what was once difficult to comprehend and more difficult to express; I have created musical works that dissolve stress; I have invented somatic education exercises and self-renovation procedures that clear up pain; I can also dissolve upwelling/emerging stress conditions. I move well and function well -- some have said, at the "genius" level. Well . . . . . (looking down, the ball of one foot pressing down and turning on the dirt, like stubbing out a cigarette -- "shucks...!").

One who has "seen" can show others. Dissolving pain into Virtuality is profitable; it's the profit of transforming awful, heavy curses into blessings. They make the words, The Prophet of Pain, have a double meaning.

"We interrupt this program for a special news bulletin:

Your mind just popped and you didn't notice."

* Update:
Two weeks ago, I had a sudden resurgence of sacro-iliac joint dysfunction. I couldn't sit up without my pelvis seizing up; I couldn't bend forward without having to tighten my belly muscles to avoid pain (making it difficult to put down the toilet seat); I couldn't roll over, except very delicately.

I trace the resurgence to some somatic work I did in my neck to correct a long-standing muscular imbalance (residue of the "gripping injury") and to the incomplete results of my previous practice of  somatic education exercises for the condition.

Glad to report, after a week of practicing the regimen of somatic education exercises I call, Comforting Your S-I Joints -- the same way as any client or purchaser might practice it -- I had recovered enough to fly to Mexico to visit my mother and to assist her in unpacking and moving furniture in her new villa.

I had to put this entry on hold until I had demonstrated to myself that I could "walk my talk" about somatic education. Here I am, again.

The Gold Key Release

copyright 2017 Lawrence Gold

1 comment:

  1. Pleased to hear of your improvements. Thank you for sharing what you learn.