If I had to summarize in briefest terms what Jerry teaches, I'd say he teaches the ability to feel what's actually present, which is less obvious and much deeper than it perhaps sounds. I'm finding most people avoid feeling most of the time.
This work has provided me with an unanticipated benefit in relation to my writing. When I really started writing again in earnest, I discovered that I could now feel the struggle of writing.
It hadn't occurred to me that it was ever otherwise, but quickly I could see that so much of my writing career, especially during the big gaps when I excused myself from writing at all, happened as a reaction to a feeling that I didn't let myself actually feel. The stress and fear of writing was something I simply avoided, without even realizing I was doing it.
But once I got better at feeling things--discovering them in the body, letting them be what they were, breathing through the sensations with as little judgment as possible--I could witness what felt unpleasant about writing but not stop writing. The unpleasant sensations were just unpleasant sensations. They had no real solidity, were just bodily manifestations of my conflicted emotions about writing. If I just let them be and kept writing, they might or might not go away, but I didn't have to stop writing to avoid them, or bother to avoid them at all.
How deeply I feel them now depends on the day. I've zero-drafted something like 75,000 words since the winter solstice, and some days it's easy to write to 1,000 words and beyond, and some days I can just get myself to 1,000, and some days it all hurts and some days it doesn't but in general I am showing up and getting my writing done, and I think by not stopping the writing, irrespective of the sensations that arise, fewer unpleasant sensations are arising.
In the initial drafting, anyway. I'm meeting a lot of uncertainty in the editing, and many days when I click that "Publish" button, I feel straight-up fear.
I'm sure you can write the punchline yourself: these feelings, too, simply arise and then pass away.