Throughout my work at Kabbalah Empowerment, I’ve noticed many people who are unconsciously masking pain

This is a term I thought of to describe a pattern I observed both within myself in my path of Teshuva, and people around me. Even though many of us are genuinely committed to personal growth, I noticed a widespread tendency to use spiritual teachings and practices to sidestep unresolved emotional issues, psychological wounds, and incomplete developmental tasks.

This is a serious issue, and part of what propelled me to begin studying the One Brain methodology.

When masking pain, we often frame our pursuit of awakening or liberation as a justification for what I call premature Hitromemut (transcendence), the attempt to rise above the raw, unresolved aspects of our humanity before we have truly faced and integrated them.

In doing so, we may lean on the language of absolute truth to dismiss or diminish essential human experiences: emotions, needs, psychological struggles, relational challenges, and developmental gaps. In this way, masking pain becomes an “occupational hazard” of the spiritual path, which by nature invites us to transcend our current cycle of growth.

In other words: wounds need to be tended and integrated, as they are fallen parts of our souls.

Not ignored.

The consequences of masking pain

In his foundational work Shaarei Kedusha, Rabbi Chaim Vital emphasizes that achieving ruach hakodesh (Divine inspiration) is impossible for one who has not first refined their middot (character traits). He writes:

“Even if a person fulfills all 613 mitzvot and studies Torah day and night… if he is lacking in refinement of character, he cannot reach holiness.”
(Shaarei Kedusha, Part I, Gate 2)

This is a direct refutation of any spirituality that tries to “leapfrog” over inner work. Serving Hashem is not simply about elevating the intellect or pursuing transcendence. It requires deep engagement with our emotional and relational wounds, because these are the very places the soul becomes blocked.

Attempting to mask the pain of our emotional and psychological issues is not only ineffective, it is also harmful. It creates a split between the “spiritual” and “human” dimensions of ourselves.

This leads to an imbalanced spirituality that elevates one side of life at the expense of the other: favoring absolute truth over relative truth, the impersonal over the personal, emptiness over form, transcendence over embodiment, detachment over feeling. For example, one might try to practice detachment by suppressing the natural need for love, only to have that need later manifest in unconscious and potentially damaging ways.

This is recognized by many parts in the Torah.

As a certified One Brain practitioner, I am particularly interested in how masking pain plays out in relationships, where it often causes the most harm. If one were a yogi in a cave on solitary retreat, unresolved wounds might remain hidden, since the environment is controlled and relationships are absent. In contrast, relationships tend to bring these wounds to the surface, as psychological injuries are inherently relational. They develop within early relationships with caregivers and continue to be activated through interpersonal interactions.

One of the most common wounds in modern life is the deep sense of not being loved or inherently lovable. A lack of attuned care in childhood is profoundly shocking and traumatic for the developing nervous system. Over time, these early experiences shape how we value ourselves and, by extension, how we relate to others. I refer to this as a relational wound or a wound of the heart.

The sources for masking pain

The teachings of the Arizal, particularly in Etz Chaim, emphasize the interplay between or (light) and kli (vessel). One cannot receive the Divine light unless the vessel is fit to hold it. The vessel here refers to the self: the psyche, emotions, relationships.

Without developing healthy vessels, the light has nowhere to reside. And whether we like it or not, we can be absolutely sure that these vessels will be rectified one way or another.

The process of birur (spiritual clarification) involves confronting and uplifting the sparks of holiness trapped within the “fallen” aspects of our lives. Avoiding these areas is not an option. The Arizal teaches that every person has specific sparks assigned to them, hidden in the struggles of their life. If one bypasses those struggles, they forfeit he mission.

In line with this, a large body of psychological research has demonstrated how secure relationships characterized by close emotional bonds and attuned caregiving, profoundly influences every dimension of human development. Secure attachment supports healthy brain development, emotional regulation, immune function, stress resilience, and relationship skills.

Conversely, the breakdown of these bonds in modern society has left many people with symptoms of insecure attachment: self-hatred, disembodiment, lack of grounding, chronic insecurity and anxiety, racing thoughts, mistrust, and a pervasive sense of deficiency. This leads to a level of disconnection from society, family, tradition, nature, the body, emotions, and even our humanity itself, an alienation rarely seen in earlier cultures.

In this context, being a “good spiritual practitioner” can become a compensatory identity which is a way of covering and defending against an underlying sense of inadequacy. In other words: masking pain.

Even with sincere dedication to spiritual practice, it can be used in the service of denial. When spiritual practice is compartmentalized, meaning it’s cut off from our lived emotional and relational experience, it remains superficial and unintegrated.

I often encounter long-time spiritual practitioners whose practices have genuinely benefited them, yet who still carry unhealed wounds at the emotional and relational levels. Despite their sincerity, their spiritual work has not fully permeated their lives. They seek therapy because they are acting out these wounds in ways that can be painful or harmful to themselves and others.

Some have self-limiting beliefs or un-rectified emotions that often hamper their life and work.

It is not uncommon for practitioners to speak eloquently about the innate goodness or perfection of our true nature, yet find themselves unable to trust this truth when old wounds are triggered. Many who have cultivated compassion for others remain harsh toward themselves for falling short of their spiritual ideals, causing their practice to become rigid, dry, or overly solemn.

The motivation to help others may also become entangled with a need for validation, or a way of compensating for inner feelings of inadequacy.

In some cases, spiritual brilliance is used to feed narcissism or to manipulate others in subtle ways.

Meditation as the centerpiece

I love meditation. It give me energy and brings me to a centered, trance state like nothing else can.

But meditation itself is often used as a means of masking pain, as a refuge from uncomfortable emotions or unresolved life situations. For those in denial about their inner wounds, meditation can inadvertently reinforce coldness, disengagement, or emotional distance.

Such practitioners may struggle to relate authentically to their own feelings or to express themselves transparently with others. Confronting their own woundedness, emotional dependence, or basic need for love can feel threatening.

They may believe they are fine, when in reality, deep inside, they are not.

Kabbalah does not see the human body or psyche as obstacles to holiness, but rather as vessels for it. The Zohar teaches:

“The body is the wick, the soul is the flame, and oil is the good deeds. The flame cannot burn without the wick.”
(Zohar, Vol. III, 187a)

The message is clear: holiness is not about escaping the body or the self, but integrating the light of the soul into all layers of being. When a person suppresses emotional needs under the guise of “bitul” (self-nullification), they may be practicing a distorted version of Kabbalah. True bitul is not denial—it is alignment.

I have repeatedly observed how the pursuit of nonattachment can serve as a way to seal off emotional vulnerability. Identifying as a spiritual practitioner may become a means of avoiding deeper human engagement, precisely the type of engagement that would stir up buried wounds and longings for connection. It is heartbreaking to witness someone clinging to a stance of detachment while starving internally for genuine bonding and love.

Likewise, just as the hand cannot function apart from the arm, human beings are fundamentally relational. We are interconnected, interwoven, and interdependent. Attachment to those we love is not a flaw, it is a natural and necessary part of life.

From my perspective, feelings and emotions are powerful forms of intelligence. I am sure there are sources that corroborate to that.

It is the body’s direct, intuitive, and holistic way of knowing, capable of integrating many layers of experience simultaneously, which is far beyond what the linear, conceptual mind can process. In contrast to emotional reactivity, which tends to be outwardly directed, authentic feeling helps us contact deep inner truths.

But even they are incredible valuable.

The reality is that most of us are most intensely triggered in marital relationships. If we are masking pain to avoid facing these relational wounds, we forgo one of the most powerful arenas for personal growth.

Relational practice allows us to cultivate compassion precisely where our pain and defenses are most active, in the heart of human connection.

In my One Brain work, I guide people in a process of identification and healing. Together, we explore the sensations, beliefs, identities, and emotions embedded in the experiences. The process resembles untangling a ball of yarn: knots are revealed and loosened one by one through careful awareness and powerful exercises.

It is incredibly precise and effective.

As this unfolding happens, people begin to reclaim presence in areas of life where they had been absent or disconnected. By extending care and attention to parts of themselves that have long been neglected, they develop a deeper, more grounded connection to themselves.

This inner attunement naturally enhances their capacity to engage authentically with others and to hold space for others’ struggles as well.

The need for masking pain fades away.

It’s real healing.

People are often most strict with their own selves. Most of us suffer from lack of self-compassion and expect increasingly higher goals to be achieved.

Though true transcendence has been discovered for millennia, we have yet to fully embody its light within the realm of interpersonal relationships.

Bringing consciousness and compassion into our relational lives is one of the deepest forms of spiritual practice we can undertake.