Pain versus Suffering

My mother believed that, although pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. I try to live by this rule, but often break it - usually in the context of emotional pain, but also in cases of physical pain that I believe I could or should have avoided.

There are at least two levels of avoidable suffering. The first is the kind I add myself. Say I'm feeling lonely or bored, for example. That's a kind of pain. But I don't have to add suffering to the situation by blaming myself for feeling that way, by beating myself up for not taking better care of myself, or by slumping into depression because all I can remember and all I can imagine is feeling that painful way - eternally.

The means of avoiding this added suffering is to notice that I'm adding it and to choose not to. This requires stepping out of the pain enough to distinguish it from the added suffering. But that's not impossible - however hard it may seem.

Let's pretend I've mastered not making the pain worse. It is also possible to respond to pain in a way that makes it less painful. A friend of mine who is 81 years old said this morning that, although she's started noticing aches and pains in places she'd never noticed before, she's trying to view them as signs that she's still alive. Thinking about great wrongs and injustices in the world can also help put personal pains in a perspective that lessens their smart.

Regrettably, my first response to pain is either to try to stop it or to tell myself I can last until it quits. Because the vast majority of physical and emotional pains will subside with time.

This is a fact that serious meditators learn. The goal when experiencing pain while meditating is simply to observe it - neither clinging to it nor pushing it away, but simply noticing its location, shape, and character with a kindly curiosity. And also noting how swiftly it changes in some way or degree - because it will change.