When Pain Becomes Part of the Practice

Life doesn't always unfold the way we want it to.

Our bodies change through illness, injury, aging, and fatigue. People we love change. Relationships shift. Places we once knew no longer feel the same. Things happen that we never expected. Sometimes what we hoped would stay steady simply doesn't.

Most of us know the first reaction well. We want the suffering to stop. We want the pain to go away and things to go back to how they were. We want to understand why this is happening and have some sense of when it will end.

Pain is hard to hold, not only because of what we feel in the body, but because of all the suffering that comes with it.

The mind starts asking questions. Why me? What if it gets worse? Will I feel like myself again? How long will this last? We start comparing ourselves to who we used to be - how our body felt, how much energy we had, what we could do, how life used to look. And then we compare ourselves to other people. Why does this seem so easy for them? Why does their life keep moving while I feel stuck here?

The pain is real, and so is the frustration of not being able to do what we once could. There can be a difficult space between the life we wish to live and the life we're actually living. Fear, worry, sadness, and uncertainty can grow in that space.

We all don't experience the same situation in the same way. What frightens me may not frighten you. What makes one person feel vulnerable may barely register for another. We each bring our own emotions, learnings, expectations, and ways of coping.

In yoga, duḥkha speaks to this sense of unease - the difficulty of being with life when it isn't unfolding the way we want it to.

Pain can create tension and contraction. We become focused on ourselves and on what is wrong. Questions like why me? can bring even more resistance to what is already here. Sometimes the first step in meeting duḥkha is simply being honest about where we are.

This is where I am. This is what my body, breath, emotions, and mind feel like today. This is what my life looks like right now. Taking a real stock of the present moment and situation.

That doesn't mean I have to like it. It doesn't mean I stop looking for ways to feel better or stop asking for help. It just means I stop arguing with what is already here and present.

Over time, I've come to see that our suffering can change us. Not because it is good, and not because every difficult experience needs to have a lesson. Sometimes something is simply hard, and we'd rather it had never happened at all.

But when I look back at some of the harder things I've been through, I can see how they changed me. They slowed me down. They made me pay attention, reconsider what matters, listen to my body, and, in some ways, become kinder to myself.

I also think about the different ways I've coped with pain throughout my life.

Over time, these ways of meeting difficult experiences have become part of the practice.

When I find myself facing a difficult situation, I sometimes ask: What is this experince trying to teach me? What has this experience changed in me? What have I learned? What do I understand now that I didn't before?

The answers aren't always profound. Sometimes it's simply realizing that I need to rest, that I don't have to do everything myself, or that I've become more understanding of someone else's pain because I know what it feels like to struggle.

There's another profound practice I turn to when I'm in pain. I think about other people who are hurting, too.

Somewhere, someone else is awake with pain. Someone else is frightened or anxious, wondering when or if they'll feel better. So instead of only wishing for my own pain to disappear, I offer an unconditional prayer for everyone.

May they find comfort. May they have the support they need. May they feel less alone. May all those who are suffering be free from suffering.

It doesn't make my suffering disappear. But it changes something in me. For a moment, I'm not so caught up in my own experience. I'm remembering that other people carry their own pain, too.

Pain can make us feel very alone. And yet it can also remind us that we're not alone at all.

Yoga doesn't promise a life without pain. Life will keep bringing change, loss, uncertainty, aging, and things we can't control. There will be days when we don't feel strong or accepting or particularly wise. There will be days when we're simply tired of dealing with it. That's human, too.

Maybe the practice is learning how to be with ourselves when we struggle. To notice the pain without letting it take over everything. To care for the body without being angry at it. To let an experience change us without letting it define us.

And when we have the capacity, to let what we've been through help us recognize someone else's pain a little more deeply.

Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah

May all beings be happy and experience true well-being.

Sarve Santu Nirāmayāḥ

May all beings be free from illness, suffering, and that which causes them pain.

Sarve Bhadrāṇi Paśyantu

May all beings see what is good, wholesome, and uplifting in life.

Mā Kaścid Duḥkha Bhāg Bhavet

May no one be touched by suffering. May no one feel alone in their pain.

Bhāvārth

For me, the deeper feeling of this prayer isn't simply wishing for our own happiness. It's letting the heart grow a little bigger, from my well-being to the well-being of others.

When we're hurting, it's easy to forget that countless other people are carrying pain, too. Illness, fear, loss, uncertainty, loneliness. The prayer doesn't ask us to decide who deserves relief. We simply offer it.

May everyone find some comfort. May everyone have the support they need. May everyone know peace. May everyone be free from suffering.

Perhaps this is also a reminder that we're not separate from one another. What we learn through our own struggles can change how we see someone else's. That may be one of the quieter things that can come from having been through something difficult. We recognize the struggle in another person.

We may not be able to choose everything that happens to us. But we can choose, little by little, how we meet what is present - with a little more kindness, understanding, love, and compassion.

Practice makes peace!

Peace, Love & Grace

Sampurna