I have been thinking about the above statement for a few days now, sorting it out in my mind. Pain can become something more. A way to tell you are alive. A way to overcome adversity. The path to a new understanding in your life.
In the beginning, however, why else would there be pain except as an instinctive response to preserve life and limb? Feel pain. Bad. Run away. Or crawl away or whatever one is capable of doing at the time.
Pain? Shouldn’t climb that tree and fall out. Shouldn’t fall off of high rocks. Or let a snake bite you. Or a saber-tooth tiger. Or stand in the way of a woolly mammoth stampede. Not sure how fast Woolly Mammoths were able to run, but even at a plod, standing in front of them was not a good idea.
Then came tools. Sharpened flint. Arrowheads. Axes. Swords. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.
Pain itself was a different experience in the distant past. I’m not saying our distant ancestors didn’t feel emotional pain. I believe all living being feel both physical and mental/emotional pain, but when does pain turn into something more? Maybe the first moment one of our ancestors stood in front of that Woolly Mammoth charge and died, leaving behind other family members. Or maybe not until we evolved enough to understand many of the truths of the world and of death and life and all that come between.
I don’t like pain, but there are times I embrace it. Sometimes I embrace mental pain to counter physical pain or vise versa. And sometimes, I embrace a deeper mental pain to dull another mental pain wreaking havoc in my mind.
Pain is one of those constants in our lives which, as far as I am concerned, we will never fully understand.
Where does pain fit into your life?