Читать книгу Tiny Buddha, Simple Wisdom for Life's Hard Questions - Lori Deschene - Страница 10

Without suffering, we would never fully understand joy. ∼@Sequential

There is suffering for us to recognize the meaning of happiness. There can't be one without the other. ∼@Laurie_AMU

Others’ suffering lets me give hope, charity, and love. My suffering gives these opportunities to others. No humanity without it. ∼@dgalvin22

There's suffering in the world in order to show us how much beauty there is, too. You could not have one without the other. ∼@cphilli3

Suffering brings joy, happiness, love, generosity, and all good things into relief so that we may recognize them. ∼@LittleWordGods

On the other side of our instinct to avoid pain, there's the persistent longing for things that feel good—what Sigmund Freud referred to as the pleasure principle. What's interesting to note, though, is that pain and pleasure really are intricately connected—not just because they are two sides of the same coin but also because one often creates the other. When we experience stress or pain, our bodies create endorphins that intercept the messages that would tell the brain the body should hurt. It's why a lot of people engage in thrill-seeking activities that may cause them physical discomfort, and also why athletes push through—the euphoric high that accompanies immense pain.

It's also why people eat chili peppers, which contain a high amount of capsaicin, a compound that triggers pain receptors through a burning sensation. In his 2008 Washington Post article “The Pleasure Is in the Pain,” Andreas Viestad discusses his trip to the world's “Chili Belt,” where he conducted research for a book on spices. In Mozambique, Thailand, and India, he observed a dramatic shift in energy and enthusiasm after people consumed a chili-pepper-infused meal. One of the men in Maputo explained they cry so hard while eating the spicy foods so that they can laugh after the meal.

This same idea applies in many areas of our lives. We watch tragic films to experience the cathartic release of engaging in emotional stories. We choose to watch violent murders in horror movies, even though we'd never want to see or be someone actually being maimed or tortured, because we want to feel those primal sensations of fear while knowing we're safely removed from any actual danger. We alternate dives in the icy pool with quick dips in the hot tub, enjoying dramatically shifting our body temperatures in a short amount of time. And then there's the way we take on professional and personal challenges knowing there are difficulty and risk involved. Pain paves the path for pleasure—and sometimes, as I mentioned before, we feel the greater the hurt, the sweeter the reward.

In addition to creating conditions for pleasure, pain helps us survive—which is, in fact, a prerequisite for feeling good. In his book The Gift of Pain, Paul Brand explores how the experience of pain helps us understand what we need to do to preserve our bodies. He references a girl who was born with congenital indifference to pain, meaning she couldn't experience any of the physical sensations we'd associate with hurting. At eighteen months old, she chewed at her fingers beyond the point of bleeding, completely oblivious to the fact that her wounded digits represented a massive threat to her well-being. Obviously adults know better than to gnaw on our own flesh, but without pain we wouldn't have information we need to preserve ourselves. This doesn't apply just to physical pain; emotional pain also helps us make smart choices for our survival.

I've always had a fascination with the idea of schadenfreude—deriving pleasure through seeing someone else in pain—because some of my most painful memories involve me crying while someone else appeared to enjoy it. A recent study by University of Chicago psychology professor Jean Decety revealed that bullies experience increased blood flow in the reward center of the brain when they see people suffering. Children who didn't display similarly aggressive behavior felt empathy for the people hurting.

Considering that biology may have influenced the cruelty I experienced as a kid—and knowing that my tormenters may have missed out on an important cue to feel for other people and, in doing so, intimately relate to them—I can feel a new and healthy gratitude for my ability to hurt. The capacity to feel for other people is in itself a source of pleasure. Because I hurt so deeply, I have always felt other people's pain almost within my own flesh and blood. I may not always have opened myself up to relationships, but I've always been a nurturer within the ones I've accepted. For that deeply satisfying ability to recognize pain and help heal it, I am eternally grateful.

The pleasure that can come after pain isn't always a reciprocal or fair trade-off, but if we have to experience things that are difficult in life, we might as well identify something good in the aftermath. When I met that girl in Times Square, I knew without a doubt she would never have chosen her fate. There was nothing desirable about losing the people she loved and knowing they died so tragically. It crossed my mind, though, that she likely appreciated people in a whole new way after experiencing firsthand just how fragile life is. I imagined that in her next relationship, whenever things got difficult, as they inevitably do when two people come together, she'd close her eyes and remember to value every moment because the moments eventually run out. Knowing the pain of loss likely gave her relationships a whole new sense of meaning.

At the end of his life, French impressionist painter Auguste Renoir continued making art, despite the near-paralyzing arthritis that made every stroke torture. In response to the question of why he carried on, Renoir said, “Pain passes but beauty remains.” I can't help but wonder if he didn't merely push through the pain but somehow appreciated that it endowed his last pieces with a whole new sense of meaning. Pain has a way of doing that when we realize what we get through the experience of enduring it.

LET PAIN REMIND YOU OF WHAT YOU ENJOY AND APPRECIATE.

If you're hurting and it seems like you'll never feel joy again:

Identify what this pain reminds you to appreciate. If you're hurting because you lost someone, this pain reminds you to enjoy every moment with the people you love because life is fragile. If you're hurting because of shame or regret, this pain reminds you to live with honor, authenticity, and integrity to create feelings of self-respect and pride.

Make a proactive decision to enjoy those things at least a little today. Don't worry about completely releasing your pain forever—that's a huge goal to demand of yourself. Instead, focus on doing something for just a short while that will create the emotions you want to feel. Call an old friend and get together for a spontaneous adventure instead of dwelling on the adventure that never happened. Do something that makes you feel proud and passionate instead of feeling ashamed of the decision that didn't pan out.

Schedule blocks of healing. When we're hurting, it's easy to isolate ourselves until we feel better or more in control. But I've noticed that simple pleasures—like a massage or a hug—can feel so much more gratifying when I am deeply in need of release or connection. So schedule it in, even if you think you may get emotional. According to William Frey II, a biochemist who researches tears at Ramsey Medical Center, crying releases toxins and stress hormones—meaning, it often feels good to cry.