Suffering: Is it dumb or smart?
A long read that just might inspire you to see the world with new eyes.
a note:
I wrote this post many many months ago but lacked the courage to share in trepidation that my feelings on the topic might be situational and transient (like my suffering). Now, that the adage ‘only time will tell’ has sufficiently run its course, I feel confident my experience was authentic and that smart suffering really can be a powerful window to help you see the world with new eyes
suffering
noun
the state of a person or thing that suffers
Suffering by definition seems simple. But what exactly does it mean to suffer?
We are conditioned to think of suffering as a negative experience. Instinctively linking it to pain, distress, injury, loss, hardship — generally anything unpleasant. This makes sense given suffering is widely accepted to be the opposite of pleasure or happiness.
But could suffering make us happy? Could it be a positive experience that gives meaning to our lives? Does smart suffering exist?
According to American astrologer and writer Rob Brezsny it does. He makes a clear distinction between dumb suffering and smart suffering. Suggesting dumb suffering is: ‘born of fear, is comfortable and unproductive’. Whereas smart suffering ‘inspires you to see the world with new eyes’ — it provokes curiosity and can often lead to experiencing pleasure within pain.
Brezsny writes about suffering at length in his book, Pronoia is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World is Conspiring to Shower You With Blessings.
For the record, yes, I do have this book on my bookshelf! I love Brezsny’s optimism. He is witty and inspiring. Maybe a little ‘out there’, but I enjoy the invitation to challenge my thinking. The book is not designed to be read linearly —at least, I don’t think so— but rather intended to be an antidote to whatever mood or situation you’re in. A pseudo ‘choose your own adventure’ whereby, even though you know the risks (optimism and blessings coming your way!), you dare to open the pages at random in search of insight to resolve your issue of the moment.
And this was my experience just a few months ago…
I was in pain, unrelenting ‘why-are-the-painkillers-not-working!’ physical pain.
A textbook kind of suffering involving injury, loss, distress and generally feeling sizeably sh*t about oneself! I had had a fall due to a medical condition and, as a result, fractured my knee. On reflection things could have been worse. But, at the time, I was unhappily housebound and handicapped.
In an attempt to cure my increasing cabin fever I found myself at the bookshelf in search of a dose of pronoia. And so I was blessed with the lesson of smart suffering.
“Suffering can’t be avoided. “ James Broughton told Jack Foley. “The way to happiness is to go into the darkness of yourself. That’s the place the seed is nourished, takes its roots and grows up, and becomes ultimately the plant and the flower. You can only go upward by first going downward.” — James Broughton, as told to interviewer, Jack Foley, All: A James Broughton Reader (Brezsny, p125)
The quote above immediately captured my attention. In part, it reminded me of a previous post I’d written about experiencing the darkness of disappointment. But more than anything it jolted me to refocus on the often overlooked bridge between suffering and happiness.
What lesson was my fractured knee asking me to master? Could I somehow experience happiness in amongst the pain? And why in the world was I being so hard on myself for simply feeling my feelings?
Wallowing was allowed! I was in physical pain and there was nothing I could do about the time it would take for my knee to heal (FYI a broken bone takes a minimum six weeks to mend itself).
The only thing in my control during this time was to decide the kind of suffering I wanted to experience: dumb or smart.
I am often in a rush. I think fast, I talk fast, I walk fast, I eat fast. You get the picture. But you can’t get anywhere fast when you’re on crutches! After my fall, as lay in hospital for days, and then on my couch for weeks (literally!), it became increasingly apparent my friends and family were attempting to stage an intervention. Everyone had the same message to share: “Stef, you’re so lucky….” (aka it could have been worse) and “…this is the universe telling you to ‘slow down’.” Lucky? Slow down??? Hmm really?
I spent a lot of time suffering this advice. I did not agree (and, for the record, still do not agree) and I was angry at being told how to feel and what to do. This was dumb. Of course the people who knew me best — my family who loved me and my friends who cared for me — were only trying to help. But I wasn’t ready to feel my suffering and so I searched for every other reason to be distressed (namely being annoyed at my family and friends, and the world, and life). I was too proud to ‘go into the darkness’ of myself and admit that attempting to live my life on fast forward and avoid the fullness of my feelings was no longer going to serve me. At heart, I was not using my brain.
The irony here is exponential given I had just been diagnosed with neurocardiogenic syncope syndrome, a condition whereby my brain and my heart struggle to communicate with each other resulting in an unanticipated temporary loss of consciousness . Or, in the words of an ex-lover, “So, you literally can’t think with your heart”. Yup.
Physiology aside, I still felt like I should have known better than to suffer so dramatically. I had navigated periods of darkness in my life before. Or had I?
Stanley Moss, a 20th century American poet, once said “I have not used my darkness well”. Was this statement also true for me? Was I not using my darkness well? It soon dawned on me that dumb suffering is extremely comfortable. It was easy to spend my days unproductively and in fear of having to change my beloved lifestyle. But was I ready to face the alternative? What was the alternative?
“If there is meaning in life at all, then there must be meaning in suffering.” — Viktor E. Frankl
My brain knew smart suffering meant I had to find the meaning in amongst the unavoidable and let go of my attachment to how I thought things SHOULD have been going (yes, I should have been enjoying sunny weekends on the beach; yes, I should have been practicing yoga; yes, I should have been back at work, blah blah blah). But my heart was struggling to catch up.
FACT: the only thing I SHOULD have been doing was suffering smarter.
Suffering may be unavoidable, but smart suffering is a choice. Smart suffering is accepting life is messy. Smart suffering is allowing pain to plant a seed in you and knowing, ultimately, the only direction it can grow is up. Smart suffering is being curious and finding meaning, and maybe even, pleasure, in the unpleasant. Smart suffering is listening, with loving kindness, to your heart.
And so, I decided to turn my attention to using my darkness productively and to seeking out the upside of this unavoidable experience.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to seek far before it was obvious I was being showered in blessings: I found working from home to be extremely productive; I befriended my crutches (they weren’t so bad once adorned with racing stickers thanks to my rev-head cousin!); in the evenings I caught up on my TBR (to-be-read) pile and discovered the joy of Netflix; and on the weekends I got to know my elderly neighbours as I trained to walk again, up and down my driveway.
But the most recognisable experience of pronoia was being left in awe of my family and friends who generously gave of their time to pander to my every need. Those people who played chauffeur to my many medical appointments, who home-delivered (real!) coffee, who cheered me up when the pain was too dark to face alone, and who kindly reminded me to slow down and open my eyes to the opportunity of suffering smarter. Slow and steady wins the race, right?
Pronoia suggests the universe is always conspiring in our favour, that everything happens to help us, and people always have our best interests at heart. I have no idea if my orthopaedic surgeon believes in the notion of pronoia or not, but I have a sneaking suspicion the universe was on his side when his instructions were strictly: “Stef, you just have to do the time”.
My bridge between suffering and happiness came in the form of time. A gift of time. A painful and unfamiliar gift. But, a blessing nonetheless. When suffering showed in my life up I chose to do the time.
It was, after all, the smart thing to do.
