Chapter 11
FINDING MEANING IN PAIN AND SUFFERING
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Victor Frankl, a Jewish psychiatrist imprisoned by the Nazis in World War II, once said, “Man is ready and willing to shoulder any suffering as soon and as long as he can see a meaning in it.” Frankl used his brutal and inhumane experience in the concentration camps to gain insight into how people survived the atrocities. Closely observing who survived and who didn‘t, he determined that survival wasn’t based on youth or physical strength but rather on the strength derived from purpose, and the discovery of meaning in one’s life and experience.
Finding meaning in suffering is a powerful method of helping us cope even during the most trying times in our lives. But finding meaning in our suffering is not an easy task. Suffering often seems to occur at random, senselessly and indiscriminately, with no meaning at all, let alone a purposeful or positive meaning. And while we are in the midst of our pain and suffering, all our energy is focused on getting away from it. During periods of acute crisis and tragedy it seems impossible to reflect on any possible meaning behind our suffering. At those times, there is often little we can do but endure. And it’s natural to view our suffering as senseless and unfair, and wonder, “Why me?” Fortunately, however, during times of comparative ease, periods before or after acute experiences of suffering, we can reflect on suffering, seeking to develop an understanding of its meaning. And the time and effort we spend searching for meaning in suffering will pay great rewards when bad things begin to strike. But in order to reap those rewards, we must begin our search for meaning when things are going well. A tree with strong roots can withstand the most violent storm, but the tree can’t grow roots just as the storm appears on the horizon.
So where do we begin in our search for meaning in suffering? For many people, the search begins with their religious tradition. Although different religions may have different ways of understanding the meaning and purpose of human suffering, every world religion offers strategies for responding to suffering based on its underlying beliefs. In the Buddhist and Hindu models, for example, suffering is a result of our own negative past actions and is seen as a catalyst for seeking spiritual liberation.
In the Judeo-Christian tradition, the universe was created by a good and just God, and even though His master plan may be mysterious and indecipherable at times, our faith and trust in His plan allow us to tolerate our suffering more easily, trusting, as the Talmud says, that “Everything God does, He does for the best.” Life may still be painful, but like the pain a woman experiences in childbirth, we trust that the pain will be outweighed by the ultimate good it produces. The challenge in these traditions lies in the fact that, unlike in childbirth, the ultimate good is often not revealed to us. Still, those with a strong faith in God are sustained by a belief in God’s ultimate purpose for our suffering, as a Hasidic sage advises, “When a man suffers, he ought not to say, ‘That’s bad! That’s bad!’ Nothing God imposes on man is bad. But it is all right to say, ‘That’s bitter! That’s bitter!’ For among medicines there are some that are made with bitter herbs.” So, from the Judeo-Christian perspective, suffering can serve many purposes: it can test and potentially strengthen our faith, it can bring us closer to God in a very fundamental and intimate way, or it can loosen the bonds to the material world and make us cleave to God as our refuge.
While a person’s religious tradition may offer valuable assistance in finding meaning, even those who do not subscribe to a religious worldview may upon careful reflection find meaning and value behind their suffering. Despite the universal unpleasantness, there is little doubt that our suffering can test, strengthen, and deepen the experience of life. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., once said, “What does not destroy me, makes me stronger.” And while it is natural to recoil from suffering, suffering can also challenge us and at times even bring out the best in us. In The Third Man, author Graham Green observes, “In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed—but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they have brotherly love, five hundred years of democracy and peace, and what did they produce? The cuckoo clock.”
While at times suffering can serve to toughen us, to strengthen us, at other times it can have value by functioning in the opposite manner-to soften us, to make us more sensitive and gentle. The vulnerability we experience in the midst of our suffering can open us and deepen our connection with others. The poet William Wordsworth once claimed, “A deep distress hath humanized my soul.” In illustrating this humanizing effect of suffering, an acquaintance, Robert, comes to mind. Robert was the CEO of a very successful corporation. Several years ago, he suffered a serious financial setback that triggered a severe immobilizing depression. We met one day during the depths of his depression. I had always known Robert to be the model of confidence and enthusiasm, and I was alarmed to see him looking so despondent. With intense anguish in his voice, Robert reported, “This is the worst I’ve ever felt in my life. I just can’t seem to shake it. I didn’t know that it was even possible to feel so overwhelmed and hopeless and out of control.” After discussing his difficulties for a while, I referred him to a colleague for treatment of his depression.
Several weeks later, I ran into Robert’s wife Karen and asked her how he was doing. “He’s doing much better thanks. The psychiatrist you recommended prescribed an antidepressant medication which is helping a lot. Of course, it’s still going to take a while for us to work through the problems with the business, but he’s feeling much better now and we’re going to be all right ...”
“I’m really glad to hear that.”
Karen hesitated a moment, then confided, “You know, I hated to see him go through that depression. But in a way, I think it has been a blessing. One night during a fit of depression he began crying uncontrollably. He couldn’t stop. I ended up just holding him in my arms for hours while he wept, until he finally fell asleep. In twenty-three years of marriage, that’s the first time something like that has happened ... and to be honest I’ve never felt so close to him in my life. And even though his depression is better now, things are different somehow. Something seemed to just break open ... and that feeling of closeness is still there. The fact that he shared his problem and we went through it together somehow changed our relationship, made us much closer.”
In searching for ways that one’s personal suffering can take on meaning, we turn once again to the Dalai Lama, who illustrated how suffering can be put to practical use within the context of the Buddhist path.
“In Buddhist practice, you can use your personal suffering in a formal way to enhance your compassion—by using it as an opportunity for the practice of Tong-Len. This is a Mahayana visualization practice in which one mentally visualizes taking on another’s pain and suffering, and in turn giving them all of your resources, good health, fortune, and so on. I will give instruction on this practice in greater detail later on. So, in doing this practice, when you undergo illness, pain, or suffering, you can use that as an opportunity by thinking, ‘May my suffering be a substitute for the suffering of all other sentient beings. By experiencing this, may I be able to save all other sentient beings who may have to undergo similar suffering.’ So you use your suffering as an opportunity for the practice of taking others’ suffering upon yourself.
“Here, I should point out one thing. If, for instance, you become ill and practice this technique, thinking, ‘May my illness act as a substitute for others who are suffering from similar illnesses,’ and you visualize taking on their illness and suffering and giving them your good health, I’m not suggesting that you ignore your own health. When dealing with illnesses, first of all it’s important to take preventative measures so you don’t suffer from these illnesses, like taking all the precautionary measures such as adopting the right diet or whatever it may be. And then when you become ill, it is important not to overlook the necessity of taking the appropriate medications and all the other methods that are conventional.
“However, once you do become ill, practices such as Tong-Len can make a significant difference in how you respond to the situation of illness in terms of your mental attitude. Instead of moaning about your situation, feeling sorry for yourself, and being overwhelmed by anxiety and worry, you can, in fact, save yourself from additional mental pain and suffering by adopting the right attitude. Practicing Tong-Len meditation, or ‘giving and receiving,’ may not necessarily succeed in alleviating the real physical pain or lead to a cure in physical terms, but what it can do is protect you from unnecessary additional psychological pain, suffering, and anguish. You can think, ‘May I, by experiencing this pain and suffering, be able to help other people and save others who may have to go through the same experience.’ Then your suffering takes on new meaning as it is used as the basis for a religious or spiritual practice. And on top of that, it is also possible in the cases of some individuals practicing this technique, that instead of being sorry and saddened by the experience, the person can see it as a kind of privilege. The person can perceive it as a kind of opportunity and, in fact, be joyful because this particular experience has made him or her richer.”
“You mention that suffering can be used in the practice of Tong-Len. And earlier you discussed the fact that intentional contemplation of our suffering nature ahead of time can be helpful in preventing us from becoming overwhelmed when difficult situations arise ... in the sense of developing greater acceptance of suffering as a natural part of life...”
“That’s very true ...,” the Dalai Lama nodded.
“Are there other ways that our suffering can be seen as having some meaning, or at least the contemplation of our suffering as having some practical value?”
“Yes,” he replied, “definitely. I think earlier we mentioned that within the framework of the Buddhist path, reflecting on suffering has tremendous importance because by realizing the nature of suffering, you will develop greater resolve to put an end to the causes of suffering and the unwholesome deeds that lead to suffering. And it will increase your enthusiasm for engaging in the wholesome actions and deeds that lead to happiness and joy.”
“And do you see any benefits of reflecting on suffering for non-Buddhists?”
“Yes, I think it can have some practical value in some situations. For example, reflecting on your suffering can reduce your arrogance, your feeling of conceit. Of course,” he laughed heartily, “this may not be seen as a practical benefit or be a convincing reason for someone who doesn’t consider arrogance or pride to be a fault.”
Becoming more serious, the Dalai Lama added, “But anyway, I think that there is one aspect to our experience of suffering that is of vital importance. When you are aware of your pain and suffering, it helps you to develop your capacity for empathy, the capacity that allows you to relate to other people’s feelings and suffering. This enhances your capacity for compassion towards others. So as an aid in helping us connect with others, it can be seen as having value.
“So,” the Dalai Lama concluded, “looking at suffering in these ways, our attitude may begin to change; our suffering may not be as worthless and bad as we think.”

DEALING WITH PHYSICAL PAIN

By reflecting on suffering during the quieter moments of our lives, when things are relatively stable and going well, we may often discover a deeper value and meaning in our suffering. Sometimes, however, we may be confronted with kinds of suffering that seem to have no purpose, with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Physical pain and suffering often seem to belong to that category. But there is a difference between physical pain, which is a physiological process, and suffering, which is our mental and emotional response to the pain. So, the questions arises: Can finding an underlying purpose and meaning behind our pain modify our attitude about it? And can a change in attitude lessen the degree to which we suffer when we are physically injured?
In his book, Pain: The Gift Nobody Wants, Dr. Paul Brand explores the purpose and value of physical pain. Dr. Brand, a world-renowned hand surgeon and leprosy specialist, spent his early years in India where, as the son of missionaries, he was surrounded by people living under conditions of extreme hardship and suffering. Noticing that physical pain seemed to be expected and tolerated much more than in the West, Dr. Brand became interested in the pain system in the human body. Eventually, he began working with leprosy patients in India and made a remarkable discovery. He found that the ravages of leprosy and the horrible disfigurements were not due to the disease organism directly causing the rotting of the flesh, but rather it was because the disease caused loss of pain sensation in the limbs. Without the protection of pain, the leprosy patients lacked the system to warn them of tissue damage. Thus, Dr. Brand observed patients walking or running on limbs with broken skin or even exposed bones; this caused continuous deterioration. Without pain, sometimes they would even stick their hands in a fire to retrieve something. He noticed an utter nonchalance toward self-destruction. In his book, Dr. Brand recounted story after story of the devastating effects of living without pain sensation—of the repetitive injuries, of cases of rats gnawing off fingers and toes while the patient slept peacefully.
After a lifetime of working with patients suffering from pain and those suffering from lack of pain, Dr. Brand gradually came to view pain not as the universal enemy as seen in the West but as a remarkable, elegant, and sophisticated biological system that warns us of damage to our body and thus protects us. But why must the experience of pain be so unpleasant? He concluded that the very unpleasantness of pain, the part that we hate, is what makes it so effective in protecting us and warning us of danger and injury. The unpleasant quality of pain forces the entire human organism to attend to the problem. Although the body has automatic reflexive movements that form an outer layer of protection and move us quickly away from the pain, it is the feeling of unpleasantness that galvanizes and compels the entire organism to attend and act. It also sears the experience into the memory and serves to protect us in the future.
In the same way that finding meaning in our suffering can help us cope with life’s problems, Dr. Brand feels that an understanding of the purpose of physical pain can lessen our suffering when pain arises. In view of this theory, he offers the concept of “pain insurance.” He feels that we can prepare for pain ahead of time, while healthy, by gaining insight into the reason we have it and taking the time to reflect on what life would be without pain. However, since acute pain can demolish objectivity, we must reflect on these things before pain strikes. But if we can begin to think of pain as a “speech your body is delivering about a subject that is of vital importance to you, in the most effective way of getting your attention,” then our attitude about pain will begin to change. And as our attitude about pain changes, our suffering will diminish. As Dr. Brand states, “I am convinced that the attitude we cultivate in advance may well determine how suffering will affect us when it does strike.” He believes that we can even develop gratitude in the face of pain. We may not be grateful for the experience of pain, but we can be grateful for the system of pain perception.
There is no doubt that our attitude and mental outlook can strongly affect the degree to which we suffer when we are in physical pain. Let’s say, for instance, that two individuals, a construction worker and a concert pianist, suffer the same finger injury. While the amount of physical pain might be the same for both individuals, the construction worker might suffer very little and in fact rejoice if the injury resulted in a month of paid vacation which he or she was in need of, whereas the same injury could result in intense suffering to the pianist who viewed playing as his or her primary source of joy in life.
The idea that our mental attitude influences our ability to perceive and endure pain isn’t limited to theoretical situations such as this; it has been demonstrated by many scientific studies and experiments. Researchers looking into this issue began by tracing the pathways of how pain is perceived and experienced. Pain begins with a sensory signal—an alarm that goes off when nerve endings are stimulated by something that is sensed as dangerous. Millions of signals are sent through the spinal cord to the base of the brain. These signals are then sorted out and a message is sent to higher areas of the brain telling of pain. The brain then sorts through the prescreened messages and decides on a response. It is at this stage that the mind can assign value and meaning to the pain and intensify or modify our perception of pain; we convert pain into suffering in the mind. To lessen the suffering of pain, we need to make a crucial distinction between the pain of pain and the pain we create by our thoughts about the pain. Fear, anger, guilt, loneliness, and helplessness are all mental and emotional responses that can intensify pain. So, in developing an approach to dealing with pain, we can of course work at the lower levels of pain perception, using the tools of modern medicine such as medications and other procedures, but we can also work at the higher levels by modifying our outlook and attitude.
Many researchers have examined the role of the mind in the perception of pain. Pavlov even trained dogs to overcome the pain instinct by associating an electrical shock with a food reward. Researcher Ronald Melzak took Pavlov’s experiments a step further. He raised Scottish terrier pups in a padded environment in which they wouldn’t encounter the normal knocks and scrapes of growing up. These dogs failed to learn basic responses to pain; they failed to react, for instance, when their paws were pricked with a pin, as opposed to their littermates who squealed with pain when pricked. On the basis of experiments such as these, he concluded that much of what we call pain, including the unpleasant emotional response, was learned rather than instinctive. Other experiments with human beings, involving hypnosis and placebos, have also demonstrated that in many cases the higher brain functions can overrule the pain signals from the lower stages on the pain pathway. This indicates how the mind can often determine how we perceive pain and helps explain the interesting findings of investigators such as Dr. Richard Sternback and Bernard Tursky at Harvard Medical School (and later reaffirmed in a study by Dr. Maryann Bates et al.) who noted that there were significant differences among different ethnic groups in their ability to perceive and withstand pain.
So it seems that the assertion that our attitude about pain can influence the degree to which we suffer is not simply based on philosophical speculation but is backed up by scientific evidence. And if our investigation into the meaning and value of pain results in a change of attitude about pain, our efforts will not be wasted. In seeking to discover an underlying purpose of our pain, Dr. Brand makes one additional fascinating and critical observation. He describes many reports of leprosy patients’ claiming, “Of course, I can see my hands and my feet, but somehow they don’t feel like part of me. It feels as if they are just tools.” Thus, pain not only warns us and protects us, but it unifies us. Without pain sensation in our hands or feet, those parts no longer seem to belong to our body.
In the same way that physical pain unifies our sense of having a body, we can conceive of the general experience of suffering acting as a unifying force that connects us with others. Perhaps that is the ultimate meaning behind our suffering. It is our suffering that is the most basic element that we share with others, the factor that unifies us with all living creatures.
 
 
 
We conclude our discussion of human suffering with the Dalai Lama’s instruction on the practice of Tong-Len, which he referred to in our earlier conversation. As he will explain, the purpose of this visualization meditation is to strengthen one’s compassion. But it can also be seen as a powerful tool in helping transmute one’s personal suffering. When undergoing any form of suffering or hardship, one can use this practice to enhance one’s compassion by visualizing relieving others who are going through similar suffering, by absorbing and dissolving their suffering into your own—a kind of suffering by proxy.
The Dalai Lama presented this instruction before a large audience on a particularly hot September afternoon in Tucson. The hall’s air conditioning units, struggling against the soaring desert temperatures outside, were ultimately overcome by the additional heat generated by sixteen hundred bodies. Temperatures in the room began to climb, creating a general level of discomfort that was particularly appropriate for the practice of a meditation on suffering.

The Practice of Tong-Len

“This afternoon, let us meditate on the practice of Tong-Len, ‘Giving and Receiving.’ This practice is meant to help train the mind, to strengthen the natural power and force of compassion. This is achieved because Tong-Len meditation helps counteract our selfishness. It increases the power and strength of our mind by enhancing our courage to open ourselves to others’ suffering.
“To begin this exercise, first visualize on one side of you a group of people who are in desperate need of help, those who are in an unfortunate state of suffering, those living under conditions of poverty, hardship, and pain. Visualize this group of people on one side of you clearly in your mind. Then, on the other side, visualize yourself as the embodiment of a self-centered person, with a customary selfish attitude, indifferent to the well-being and needs of others. And then in between this suffering group of people and this selfish representation of you see yourself in the middle, as a neutral observer.
“Next, notice which side you are naturally inclined towards. Are you more inclined towards that single individual, the embodiment of selfishness? Or do your natural feelings of empathy reach out to the group of weaker people who are in need? If you look objectively, you can see that the well-being of a group or large number of individuals is more important than that of one single individual.
“After that, focus your attention on the needy and desperate people. Direct all your positive energy to them. Mentally give them your successes, your resources, your collection of virtues. And after you have done that, visualize taking upon yourself their suffering, their problems, and all their negativities.
“For example, you can visualize an innocent starving child from Somalia and feel how you would respond naturally towards that sight. In this instance, when you experience a deep feeling of empathy towards the suffering of that individual, it isn’t based on considerations like‘He’s my relative’ or ’She’s my friend.‘ You don’t even know that person. But the fact that the other person is a human being and you, yourself, are a human being allows your natural capacity for empathy to emerge and enable you to reach out. So you can visualize something like that and think, ’This child has no capacity of his or her own to be able to relieve himself or herself from his or her present state of difficulty or hardship.‘ Then, mentally take upon yourself all the suffering of poverty, starvation, and the feeling of deprivation, and mentally give your facilities, wealth, and success to this child. So, through practicing this kind of ’giving-and-receiving’ visualization, you can train your mind.
“When engaging in this practice it is sometimes helpful to begin by first imagining your own future suffering and, with an attitude of compassion, take your own future suffering upon yourself right now, with the sincere wish of freeing yourself from all future suffering. After you gain some practice in generating a compassionate state of mind towards yourself, you can then expand the process to include taking on the suffering of others.
“When you do the visualization of‘taking upon yourself,’ it is useful to visualize these sufferings, problems, and difficulties in the form of poisonous substances, dangerous weapons, or terrifying animals—things the very sight of which normally makes you shudder. So, visualize the suffering in these forms, and then absorb them directly into your heart.
“The purpose of visualizing these negative and frightening forms being dissolved into our hearts is to destroy our habitual selfish attitudes that reside there. However, for those individuals who may have problems with self-image, self-hatred, anger towards themselves, or low self-esteem, then it is important to judge for themselves whether this particular practice is appropriate or not. It may not be.
“This Tong-Len practice can become quite powerful if you combine the‘giving andreceiving’ with the breath; that is, imagine’ receiving’ when inhaling and’giving’ when exhaling. When you do this visualization effectively, it will make you feel some slight discomfort. That is an indication that it is hitting its target—the self-centered, egocentric attitude that we normally have. Now, let us meditate.”
 
 
 
At the conclusion of his instruction on Tong-Len, the Dalai Lama made an important point. No particular exercise will appeal to or be appropriate for everyone. In our spiritual journey it’s important for each of us to decide whether a particular practice is appropriate for us. Sometimes a practice will not appeal to us initially, and before it can be effective, we need to understand it better. This certainly was the case for me when I followed the Dalai Lama’s instruction on Tong-Len that afternoon. I found that I had some difficulty with it—a certain feeling of resistance—although I couldn’t put my finger on it at the moment. Later that evening, however, I thought about the Dalai Lama’s instruction and realized that my feeling of resistance developed early in his instruction at the point where he concluded that the group of individuals was more important than the single individual. It was a concept I had heard before, namely, the Vulcan axiom pro-pounded by Mr. Spock in Star Trek: The needs of the many outweigb the needs of the one. But there was one sticking point to that argument. Before bringing it up to the Dalai Lama, perhaps not wanting to come across as being just “out for number one,” I sounded out a friend who was a longtime student of Buddhism.
“One thing bothers me ...,” I said. “Saying that the needs of a large group of people outweigh those of just one single person makes sense in theory, but in everyday life we don’t interact with people en masse. We interact with one person at a time, with a series of individuals. Now, on that one-to-one level, why should that individual’s needs outweigh my own? I’m also a single individual ... We’re equal ...”
My friend thought for a moment. “Well, that’s true. But I think that if you could try to consider each individual as truly equal to yourself—no more important but no less either—I think that would be enough to start with.”
I never brought up the issue with the Dalai Lama.