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We Cannot Know The Capacity Of Our Love Until That Love Is Challenged

by Cindy Barg, M.Ed, LMHC

In 1971, I was in a very tragic car accident where I was confined to a hospital bed for three months, grasping for any threads of existence left inside of me.

As I clung to life I also acquired a rare humility. Massachusetts General Hospital became home for myself, my older brother and my mother who was four months pregnant.

I was a vivacious, spunky and curious thirteen year old who had a passion for living and seeing the world through sensitive and knowing eyes.

We had moved innumerable times growing up because my father was continually promoted in his work. I learned how to adjust and I was adept at doing so. I was about to enter a new chapter in my life: High School. Within split seconds however, my world and everything in it came to a debilitating halt when we were hit head on at 100 miles per hour.

My father was killed, a man I loved and I respected. Our family dog was shot by a State Trooper because she was so mangled and in such pain. I awoke to a flood of lights and innumerable doctors towering over me as tubes poured out of every crevice of my body.

I did not have the capacity to go to the bathroom, a simple daily function taken for granted. I was flat, on my back because I could not walk and because my injuries were so severe.

Death was so routine. I understood, even at thirteen, I was no longer invincible. Still, I wanted to live.

A fierce voice spoke within me and though I was unable to clearly articulate at that moment what that voice was, I knew I had to trust what I had heard. I was determined to walk out of that hospital, go to the bathroom on my own and begin my life again.

At the same time I was being told I would never walk, I was also told that I would not be able to have children. I remember that summer of 1971, as if it were yesterday.

Through the lens of human reason, horrible things happen. Through the lens of universal understanding, horrendous things happen as a path to collectively stretch ourselves beyond our limitations, one person, one-light-bulb moment at a time.

Courage does not always roar.
Sometimes courage is the quiet voice
at the end of the day saying,
"I will try again tomorrow"

Mary Anee Radmacher

Initially, and maybe never, this is too much for anyone to comprehend. What really would be the gift in tragedy? What gift can be claimed in our darkest hours? Would it even be humanly possible to have more love in our hearts despite unspeakable loss?

There is nothing etched in stone that tells us how to deal with grief and loss. There is no written manual on how to survive this earthly plane. There really is never getting over it. There is, however, getting on with it.

By feeling and immersing ourselves in our pain, we are more compelled to live a more human centered way of living; a way that touches the very springs of our souls. Letting go is acceptance in disguise.

As our daily pulse of living and trusting becomes more vivid, we can then rally with ourselves as opposed to rallying against ourselves. Pain can now be dispersed into a gentle faith.

No matter how we walk on our path, no matter how variegated everybody's human experience is, no matter how different, how excruciatingly agonizing, no matter how complicated, life, somehow goes on. Yet, the surrender of it all brings a resplendent peace, even if it is for the moment. To love is to hope. To live is to hope.

As you stand alone with yourself, you can share the sunlight as much as you can share the rain. You can share the contradictions of life as much as you can share the splendor of it. In your worst nightmare, you can easily be enveloped by your losses. Yet, in your sweetest dreams, you are blessed by the gifts of them.

Pain and suffering is agonizing. However, in order for you to live again, you must risk the pain, I know, how difficult. As I woke up, I have prayed that you too, will gently wake up and grasp and gather the threads of your life with a dignified hope.

Journey To The Heart: Intimate Relationship & The Path Toward Love

In a world where so many of us live in crowded solitude, we are often afraid of intimacy or have difficulty in understanding it. Come to this beautifully warm, safe and supportive weekly group that will help you to let go of old patterns and cultivate new powers and sensitivities toward loving.

You will learn how to use whatever difficulties you face in relationships as opportunities to expand your sense of who you are, while deepening your capacity to connect with others and igniting your deepest strengths to love.

Utilization of meditation, journaling, discussion,
imagery and more.

When: Wednesday evenings: 7-9m, Ongoing class
Where: Jarves Street, Sandwich, MA

Space is limited
Please call to secure a place: 917 580 0228

Investment: $20/per class per person

Cindy Barg is an intuitive licensed psychotherapist and highly respected consultant, public speaker and author, whose expertise lies in the areas of, but is not limited to: Grief, Loss, Relationships, Self-Empowerment, Transitions and "Getting Beyond Life's Stuff."

In 1971, Cindy was told she would never walk again or be able to have children, after a devastating car accident. To date she has conducted over 500 workshops all over the country & abroad (China, Malaysia, India), while operating a private practice & offering spiritual retreats on Cape Cod.

Cindy counsels and consults with individuals in person or via phone consultations. She is most recognized for her unique & gifted approach to healing, where she attempts with humility & grace to teach clients to tap into their personal power, grasping & gathering the threads of their life, no matter how profoundly tragic or joyful their circumstances.

For more information about Cindy and her work visit her website: