Pain is inevitable, but suffering is avoidable, says Neelam Mehta
I am driving back after a night of revelry at a family wedding. I savour the feel of my hands on the steering wheel — (wo)man and machine in complete sync — deftly negotiating the chaotic suburban Mumbai traffic. Just then, a golden oldie begins to play on the stereo and my spirit soars like a helium balloon. I pitch in and start karaoke-ing the number with full gusto — belting it out on top of my voice from the pit of my stomach. Life is good!
Suddenly, the numerous questions I have about the purpose of life seem so
irrelevant.
The song is over and I start reflecting on the magical moment. It was indeed a sublime experience —even though the number I had been crooning was anything but. If there was a machine to measure spiritual well-being and if I was hooked on to it at that time — I am certain the electrograph would have shown it as a sudden spike touching the peak.
Then I go right back to what I do in life — theorise. I am a left-brained, gyan yogi type who needs to wrap her head around the whys and wherefores of life. I have this tremendous need to understand life like a neat plan, so that I can then live it from that knowledge. Beset by existential and spiritual questions, I have been in quest of answers from a plethora of wisdom writings, self-growth programmes and spiritual traditions. And then along comes a moment like this one telling me that maybe, just maybe, life is its own purpose — to be lived a moment at a time, with full presence.
But then, you might argue that it’s easy to talk about living in the present moment after an experience of euphoria, or at the very least when things are ‘fine’. What about when things go wrong? Well, my own experience of dealing mindfully with thrice-relapsed cancer is this: We undergo anxiety, fear or a sense of calamity only when we connect with a past experience or anticipate a future event. For instance, I might feel anxious about my diagnosis when I recall what my mother went through when she was battling cancer. Or, I might worry about having to go through all those chemotherapies all over again, if I relapse. In each case, I am either in the past (memory of mother’s episode) or in the future (anticipating pain). I then vicariously ‘suffer’ in my head, even though there is no pain or discomfort in the body at that moment.
This is the kind of suffering that practising the power of now has helped me overcome. Whenever the mind veers towards fear of what might befall me, I bring myself back to the present moment knowing that I can deal with whatever comes up only when it comes up.
When I am in the moment of actual physical pain or discomfort, I find two practices very useful. One is based on the principle: ‘Whatever you resist, persists’. I notice my resistance to whatever pain or discomfort I am feeling and try to stay with it instead of wishing it away. The other is based on the principle: ‘Pain is inevitable, but suffering is an option’. The distinction that pain is in the body while suffering is in the mind is a very profound one. I try to experience the pain or discomfort as dispassionately as I can, thereby limiting it to physical pain without adding mental suffering to it. Knowing that I can choose not to suffer is liberation!
I am driving back after a night of revelry at a family wedding. I savour the feel of my hands on the steering wheel — (wo)man and machine in complete sync — deftly negotiating the chaotic suburban Mumbai traffic. Just then, a golden oldie begins to play on the stereo and my spirit soars like a helium balloon. I pitch in and start karaoke-ing the number with full gusto — belting it out on top of my voice from the pit of my stomach. Life is good!
Suddenly, the numerous questions I have about the purpose of life seem so
irrelevant.
The song is over and I start reflecting on the magical moment. It was indeed a sublime experience —even though the number I had been crooning was anything but. If there was a machine to measure spiritual well-being and if I was hooked on to it at that time — I am certain the electrograph would have shown it as a sudden spike touching the peak.
Then I go right back to what I do in life — theorise. I am a left-brained, gyan yogi type who needs to wrap her head around the whys and wherefores of life. I have this tremendous need to understand life like a neat plan, so that I can then live it from that knowledge. Beset by existential and spiritual questions, I have been in quest of answers from a plethora of wisdom writings, self-growth programmes and spiritual traditions. And then along comes a moment like this one telling me that maybe, just maybe, life is its own purpose — to be lived a moment at a time, with full presence.
But then, you might argue that it’s easy to talk about living in the present moment after an experience of euphoria, or at the very least when things are ‘fine’. What about when things go wrong? Well, my own experience of dealing mindfully with thrice-relapsed cancer is this: We undergo anxiety, fear or a sense of calamity only when we connect with a past experience or anticipate a future event. For instance, I might feel anxious about my diagnosis when I recall what my mother went through when she was battling cancer. Or, I might worry about having to go through all those chemotherapies all over again, if I relapse. In each case, I am either in the past (memory of mother’s episode) or in the future (anticipating pain). I then vicariously ‘suffer’ in my head, even though there is no pain or discomfort in the body at that moment.
This is the kind of suffering that practising the power of now has helped me overcome. Whenever the mind veers towards fear of what might befall me, I bring myself back to the present moment knowing that I can deal with whatever comes up only when it comes up.
When I am in the moment of actual physical pain or discomfort, I find two practices very useful. One is based on the principle: ‘Whatever you resist, persists’. I notice my resistance to whatever pain or discomfort I am feeling and try to stay with it instead of wishing it away. The other is based on the principle: ‘Pain is inevitable, but suffering is an option’. The distinction that pain is in the body while suffering is in the mind is a very profound one. I try to experience the pain or discomfort as dispassionately as I can, thereby limiting it to physical pain without adding mental suffering to it. Knowing that I can choose not to suffer is liberation!
