Mark Williams and the Cry of Pain

One of the many great experiences I had at the MBSR conference was the keynote address by Mark Williams, an amazing man who is one of the co-developers of the treatment protocol known as Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy (MBCT). I did some training in MBCT (about 25 hours with Zindel Segal, one of the other co-developers) back when it was just emerging, about 7 years ago, and I found it to be very, very helpful in my work with psychotherapy patients. I have always believed that it would be broadly effective for both mood and anxiety disorders (and this work is beginning to emerge). At the conference, a couple of days ago, Mark talked about the "cry of pain" model of suicide (as opposed to the "cry for help" model). I think he is totally on the right track. My own experience with suicidal patients (and of my own father's suicide, and its precursors) resonates strongly with Mark's model.

And I am intrigued by the fact that he and Marsha Linehan (see my earlier post, here) both have a passionate commitment to the application of mindfulness-based interventions specifically for the treatment of individuals who are in the extreme of emotional pain that leads them to (and sometimes past) the brink of suicide. This is why I refer to Marsha Linehan as a bodhisattva; and in my mind, the same name applies to Mark Williams. I think that Saki Santorelli was also saying this when, during his introduction of Mark Williams, he read a fantastic passage from Rumi, called "Cry Out In Your Weakness." Saki's reading brought tears to my eyes; if I could, I would read it aloud in honor of all the MBSR clinicians, presenters, and researchers I met at this conference, as well.

I found the story/poem online, here. You can read it, below:


A dragon was pulling a bear into its terrible mouth

A courageous man went and rescued the bear.

There are such helpers in the world, who rush to save

anyone who cries out. Like mercy itself,

they run toward the screaming.

And they can't be bought off.

If you were to ask one of those, "Why did you come

so quickly?" he or she would say, "Because I heard your helplessness."

Where lowland is,

that's where water goes. All medicine wants is pain to cure.

And don't just ask for one mercy.

Let them flood in. Let the sky open under your feet.

Take the cotton out of your ears, the cotton

of consolations, so you can hear the sphere-music.

Push the hair out of your eyes.

Blow the phlegm from your nose,

and from your brain.

Let the wind breeze through.

Leave no residue in yourself from that bilious fever.

Take the cure for impotence,

that your manhood may shoot forth,

and a hundred new beings come of your coming.

Tear the binding from around the foot

of your soul, and let it race around the track

in front of the crowd. Loosen the knot of greed

so tight on your neck. Accept your new good luck.

Give your weakness

to one who helps.

Crying out loud and weeping are great resources.

A nursing mother, all she does

is wait to hear her child.

Just a little beginning-whimper,

and she's there.

God created the child, that is, your wanting,

so that it might cry out, so that milk might come.

Cry out! Don't be stolid and silent

with your pain. Lament! And let the milk

of loving flow into you.

The hard rain and wind

are ways the cloud has

to take care of us.

Be patient.

Respond to every call

that excites your spirit.

Ignore those that make you fearful

and sad, that degrade you

back toward disease and death.

RUMI