The Possible Man: Life In The Shadow of The Just

Meir Michel Abehsera is renowned throughout the world for his books on Natural Medicine-including Cooking for Life, Healing Ourselves, Biological Transformations, and Our Earth, Our Cure.
But what has always distinguished Mr. Abehsera from other writers in the field is the ability to imbue his books with life. His works are no mere collections of recipes, regimens, and medicinal advice; they are life-giving guidance in disguise. His personable, often lyrical literary style reveals a deep concern for his reader, and a profound sensitivity to the frailties and the fortitude of the human heart.
Now, in THE POSSIBLE MAN, Mr. Abehsera offers a medicine for the soul. In the pursuit of health and happiness, we too often become obsessed with the health of the body, at the expense of the spirit. But the reader should not expect ready-to-use recipes on these pages. Mr. Abehsera's intent here is to expand our consciousness, that we may envision our own cure.
A bold ambition, perhaps; but it is only the natural consequence of the author's experience. Over the years, in public lectures, and in more intimate gatherings in the Abehseras' home-where it was not unusual to find some hundred guests on any given Saturday night-remarkable encounters have occurred. A fair exchange has taken place between guest and host. From these encounters, Mr. Abehsera has acquired a finely-honed sense of how to effectively build a person-whether with words, or with deeds. That may be why, in THE POSSIBLE MAN, the written word turn so spontaneously into deed.
Page after page, Mr. Abehsera proves to be an expert "editor" of the human character, one who can embrace a fault and transform it into a virtue. He is as attentive to the qualities of sound as he is to the subtleties of intellect; he can snatch a redeeming moment from the midst of pandemonium. In a houseful of guests, chaos reigns. Things appear to have gotten out of hand. But as time goes by, painful memories no longer hurt, and the hard surface of a sad visitor's face comes alive, because now it has been placed in context.
If Mr. Abehsera succeeds, it is only by virtue of his adherence to his Jewish faith and of his unswerving attachment to the Just-the righteous-whose presence hovers over these pages, rendering THE POSSIBLE MAN a most redeeming piece of literature. The writer who is so armed, and so shielded, can afford to speak as he pleases. He is free to recreate a language that reaches the innermost recesses of the being.