The Wisdom of Pain

 

04.01.2022 THE WISDOM OF PAIN As the pandemic winds down, we begin to count our wounds. Over the course of the last few years, some have lost jobs, family members, and contact with friends and loved ones, while many others have dealt with burnout, stress, illness, and isolation. This is a time for self-care and for honoring our losses, as we come to terms with our collective experience of pain. Pain, both physical and emotional, disrupts our sense of equilibrium and normalcy. It grabs our attention and holds our body and mind hostage, leaving its imprint through scars and stiffness. When we’re in pain, we’re forced to slow down and stop moving — or even keep moving to keep any semblance of ourselves intact. Of course, we are never fully intact. We know through the Buddhist truths of impermanence (anicca) and not-self (anattā) that our selves are always fractured, always moving; processes rather than entities. Pain disfigures, but it also reconfigures. Intense pain clarifies the everyday truth of suffering, and too, the transformation of suffering. Through pain, our mental and emotional landscapes, the result of gradual accretion and erosion, are furrowed and riven into new shapes and forms. As we seek to transform or eliminate pain, so too are we being changed by our experience of it. The question is, for those who see the markings of pain and suffering, what can we do to choose how we are changed? Below are three articles from the Lion’s Roar archives on Buddhist ways of dealing with physical pain. Chris Stewart-Patterson, M.D., takes a medically-informed perspective to managing chronic pain in his piece, “Working with Chronic Pain.” In his reflection, “Pain Is My Built-in Buddha,” Bhikkhu Bodhi writes about his experience living with chronic head pain since 1976 and the hard-won wisdom he has gained. In “One Button at a Time” from “Pain Not Suffering,” the late Darlene Cohen writes, “Thirty years after first being devastated by pain, I never enter a room without noticing what sources of comfort and ease will sustain me: not only the recliner and the pillow but also the light streaming in from the window, the handmade vase on the table, even the muffled drone of the air-conditioner…” May we learn from these hard-won lessons of pain how to live more gently with ourselves and each other, and to sustain our hearts with comfort and ease. —Nancy Chu, associate editor, Lion’s Roar

Pain Is My Built-in Buddha Bhikkhu Bodhi on the stern but eloquent teachings of chronic pain. Chronic pain can be an incentive for developing qualities that give greater depth and strength to one’s character. In this way, it can be seen as a blessing rather than as a burden, though of course we shouldn’t abandon the effort to discover a remedy for it. My own effort to deal with chronic pain has helped me to develop patience, courage, determination, equanimity, and compassion. At times, when the pain has almost incapacitated me, I’ve been tempted to cast off all responsibilities and just submit passively to this fate. But I’ve found that when I put aside the worries connected with the pain and simply bear it patiently, it eventually subsides to a more tolerable level. From there I can make more realistic decisions and function effectively.

Pain Not Suffering Two Buddhist teachers offer techniques to lessen pain’s mental suffering, look at its true nature, and learn its valuable lessons. For people in pain, tapping into this wisdom beyond wisdom is simply how to survive. When we have nothing left to hold on to, we must find comfort and support in the mundane details of our everyday lives, which are less than mundane when they’re the reason we’re willing to stay alive. This is the upside of impermanence: the shining uniqueness of beings and objects when we begin to notice their comforting presence. When preferences for a particular experience fade, the myriad things come forward to play, shimmering with suchness. Obviously, flowers and trees do this, but so do beer cans and microwaves. They’re all waiting for our embrace. It is enormously empowering to inhabit a world so vibrant with singularity.

Working With Chronic Pain Chronic pain is bad enough, but at least there are ways not to add to your misery. A friend gave Liz a copy of a book by Thich Nhat Hanh. He advises when doing the dishes to just do the dishes. Liz’s response to this reference to mindfulness was one of respectful amazement: “This is what I do! When I do the dishes, I just enjoy doing the dishes.” Although this had always been her natural tendency, Liz seized upon this technique even more vigorously to manage her pain. It’s not so much a distraction technique for her; it’s just that her focus is broader than her pain when she lives in the moment of her experience. It’s akin to forms of vipashyana (awareness) meditation where we are aware of sensations, including pain, but not exclusively focused on any one sensation for any length of time.

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