Don’t worry, I have no intention of telling you about the different ways I have been hurt in life. Every human being has been hurt, and in our intense, greedy, angry, and always-changing culture, it’s by no means rare.

It’s just life in America and this world in 2026. If you don’t get laid off, or your book, poem, or school paper doesn’t work, or your home floods or burns, it hurts.

The people who get laid off – 2 times a year on average in Corporate America – or have no money get fired by our government for any reason, or are under siege for being “woke” even when no one can explain what it means, or are struck when your candidate fails, or your dog dies, or you get divorced, or had invasive surgery, then you know pain.

The greed in our country is itself hurting all of us, and people are beginning to see it through the pain of it.

I’m 79, so I’ve experienced a lot of pain, as has every older person and every young person that I know. We all need to know how to heal.

Life has taught me a lot about healing. I never used to advise anyone, but as I get older, I have come to feel it’s an obligation. Once in a while it helps somebody, I am told, so that’s worth doing. I am no seer full of sacred wisdom, just a man heading for 80 with some lessons that might be helpful.

I am a professional healer by now. I’ll keep it short. What I have learned:

The first step of healing is the simplest and perhaps the most effective: I immediately search for new joy, and promise myself not to imprison myself in my own pain and sorrow (heartbroken dog people, get another dog; don’t ruin their memories and history with endless drama).

A new dog brings new joy, and that is the best way to heal from the loss of an animal you love. It isn’t the worst idea when dealing with lost people either. I’m getting some experience.

I pictured myself on a boat sailing through dark waters. Instead of mourning life, it’s time to have one.

Whatever has harmed us- broken promises, dumb bosses, bad luck, sickness, busted relationships, the terror of feeling abandoned- there is absolutely nothing to do but get up, look beyond the pain, find a new direction, and take it.

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The second step is a creative one – thinking of new ways to change life and add to it. That worked well for me. Pain gave me the strength to get help and listen to it. Pain is often followed by joy when I opened to it.

The third step was to find someone to trust when there comes a moment – there have been many in my life – and take the plunge of trusting: a friend, a relative, the Postman or women, the neighbor or new friend. I found loads of good people out there, willing to help me when I needed it.

Pain is a great awakener. It can be healthy. But I hate being in pain. It got me thinking and moving. I love feeling better, so I make it a point to do so.

At one point, I even asked a Christian pastor for help; he took me in for a while, and we had lunch every week or so until I felt better. We talked about whether I should have sex before remarrying, but otherwise we got along.

To me, love and joy are a couple; one is forever connected to the other.

For me, there was a fourth step. Another simple one of great importance. Time.

The thing I learned about pane was that it always went away with time, or at least softened up. I came to see it as a river to cross. There is always something better, something newer on the other side of the water. Time itself is a powerful healer; it sometimes comes slowly, but it heals the worst of it. That’s the nature of human beings – to know pain and to know healing and joy.

Something that has always worked for me is what I call the spiritual nature and power of the healing process in the pain every one of us has that often is unseen, overlooked, or dismissed. For me, sorrow also came to be almost sacred; it goes deeply into the heart and touched me as much or more than anything else I felt.

Feeling better after pain is what the spiritual world calls the mark of humanity. I see so many people in the news who seem to have lost their feeling for others and turned cruel and angry. I suspect they’ve all felt pain and don’t know what to do with it. It has to go somewhere. It’s not a simple process.

But I choose happiness over mourning, love over hate and grievance. Self-pity is just not allowed in me.

I have a good friend who is a Samaritan, and by reaching out and touching others’ pain, she has opened up her life to new meaning and significance, and some joy and peace. It’s not for everybody, but it sure has worked for me. It’s a shame most people don’t listen to the elderly much in our money-obscessed country. They often have things to share that are worth hearing.

Pain is unavoidable, but in many ways, it is also a choice, just as suffering and self-pity can be.

“The sharper the pain,” my friend says, “the more evidence of life.”

I doubt I will ever be painless, but I have learned to know and see a lot of happiness as well.

Pain and I have gotten to know one another, as most people do. We get along now.

For it’s ordinary now: one more stop on life, one more challenge, and one perhaps last chance to change things for the better.