Sometimes there is a gentle sadness that wells up inside of you. A softening, a releasing, an easing that releases a particular kind of pain that has been patiently waiting its turn to be expressed. You reflexively look for the source of that pain. You look at life experiences to find the root of that pain – to explain it, to justify it, to make it something concrete and real.
Without a memory or description or link to a specific circumstance, the discomfort will simply float through you like a cloud floating through the sky. When you name the discomfort, you give it certainty. You offer a place for it to take up residence in your body. There is an old Buddhist saying: “You can’t keep a bird from landing on your head, but you can keep it from building a nest there.”
The same is true for pain, dear one. Discomfort arises despite your experiences. Even a person with no cause to feel discomfort will experience it anyway, because discomfort is part of the human condition. Everyone feels it. None are exempt.
The question is: What will you do with the precious gift of pain you’ve been given? Rather than trying to ignore it, or blame it on a specific event in your life, do you have the courage to meet discomfort as a friend? Can you care for it? Offer it a cup of coffee? Ask it what it is here to teach you? Can you draw it to your chest in a warm embrace, breathing in its vibrant color, scent and texture? Can you love it without naming it?
At the moment of death, you will see that every life experience, without exception, is your own soul’s chosen expression of love. So dance, sweet one. Dance in the rain, the sadness, the pain, and the love.
