Heartfullness

Jack Schwarz and my Spiritual Rebirth

In 1972, while we were living in Portland, Oregon, and I was a resident in psychiatry, we had a spiritual teacher named Jack Schwarz. Jack was born in Holland, was captured as a pilot by the Nazis during World War II and was tortured by them. Partly by necessity, he developed the ability to separate himself from his body, to survive the torture. Later on, he refined this mental control over his body and became a pioneer in the field of holistic medicine.

In a famous study at the Menninger Foundation, he demonstrated the power of the mind over matter by stabbing a long sail-maker's needle through his biceps without bleeding. He stated that he put the needle through "an arm," not his arm. He was asked by one of the researchers, Dr. Green, to make his arm bleed. At this request, Jack moved his attention from his higher self to his body. His wound opened up like a faucet. He then let go and moved back into the silence of the higher self, and the bleeding stopped instantaneously.

Jack was a gifted spiritual teacher, and we learned much from him. One time, during a private meeting with him, he was studying my aura, the energy field around my body, and said, “Barry, your spiritual rebirth was in January 1969. Do you remember what happened at that time?”

I glanced at Joyce, then said to Jack, “You probably mean December 1968, when we got married.”

Jack shook his head emphatically, “No, I’m quite clear. It was definitely January of 1969.”

Neither Joyce nor I could remember anything truly significant the month after we got married. Jack remained adamant, and we left that meeting still bewildered, thinking Jack must have been wrong that time.

It wasn’t until years later that we realized he was exactly right.

Yes, we got married over my Christmas break in Buffalo, New York. Then we had a wonderful honeymoon vacation. On the morning I was to resume classes at Meharry, a predominantly Black medical school in Nashville, Tennessee, in January 1969, I was hit by a feeling of dread as I was saying goodbye to Joyce.

She looked into my eyes. “Barry, what’s wrong?”

Joyce knows me sometimes better than I do. She can instantly tell when something’s wrong.

I wanted to share with her how difficult it was for me to be discriminated against as a minority white student. I had tried my best to befriend my black classmates and some genuinely liked me, but others simply saw me as taking the place of a black student. Those were difficult times racially. Less than a year before, nearby in Memphis, Martin Luther King was assassinated. But the only words that came out were, “It’s very hard for me to leave you.”

In that moment, Joyce felt behind my words to my deepest vulnerability, my true need for her love and protection. She felt me entrusting my scared little boy-self into her care, even though I didn’t have the courage at the time to actually speak those words. It was, perhaps, the first time I was openly and honestly vulnerable with another person.

When I finally got up my courage to leave our newly furnished apartment on the white side of Nashville, and got into our car, I cranked down the window to see Joyce loving me more than ever. She seemed to be looking into my soul and said, “Barry, I’m so in awe of your beauty.”

It wasn’t so much the words she spoke as it was the way she spoke them … and the way she was looking at me with so much love. She was seeing in that moment my highest self, the real me, which I had not yet discovered. I didn’t know what to do or how to receive this enormous gift of love. I lamely mumbled, “Gee, maybe you shouldn’t be feeling that way.” I’m not exactly proud of that comment. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to faze Joyce. She just stood there beaming rays of love at me.

All these years later, I realize my feeling of vulnerability was a great gift of love to Joyce. Showing her my fear and complete need for her love empowered her to rise in love to see me in a deeper, more authentic way.

This moment was, indeed, my spiritual rebirth. Joyce saw my Higher Self because of my naked vulnerability. And, from that moment on, I knew I must grow into this true self and learn to see myself the way Joyce saw me in that vulnerable moment. I’m still amazed that Jack Schwarz was able to tune in, years later, to that pivotal moment!

(Excerpted from A Couple of Miracles: One Couple, More than a Few Miracles by Joyce and Barry Vissell)

About Joyce & Barry Vissell: Joyce & Barry, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist couple since 1964, are counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are passionate about conscious relationship and personal-spiritual growth. They are the authors of 9 books and a new free audio album of sacred songs and chants. 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. 

Joyce & Barry's Website: https://sharedheart.org/