The Buddha started his ministry by saying life is suffering. My connotation to this saying is that life has the potential for suffering due to how impermanent everything is. Nothing lasts forever, and my attachment to these things causes suffering. Want to know another paradoxical truth? Once I realize that life has the potential for suffering, I will never be surprised when it happens. Once I realize that life is hard, life ceases to be hard. Think about it. If I go into a new skill believing that it’s easy, my frustration with the skill will grow once I’ve come to realize that it’s harder than I thought, as opposed to going into the skill with the expectation of it being difficult.

I haven’t transcended my hardships because I try all that I can to avoid them. My narrow perspective can only see suffering as negative. With my toxic, positivity-filled culture, I tend to avoid anything that seems negative. I look at suffering and call it evil and then wonder why a being like God would allow such a thing. People have been seeking this question for ions. The beautiful thing about religion is that I can open a Bible and read stories about people who go through hardships. Those who go to church or temple know about Job. I know about Jesus even if we don’t go to church. Even Jesus, the Son of God, asks, “My God, My God, why have I forsaken Me?”

Each time we endure a difficult experience, we build resilience, making us better equipped to handle future challenges. By acknowledging and appreciating our resilience, we learn to adapt and thrive in the face of adversity. – Jason N. Linder, PsyD

Those who don’t believe in God will say that my suffering means nothing. It’s all just random, with no means to an end. That’s a very nihilistic view of things. Even if it were true, it doesn’t help with the coping of the pain that I am subjected to, regardless of whether I believe in God or not. The fact that I have these stories, with philosophers and clergymen alike asking the same questions, means I am not doing something right. I think my constant avoidance of pain allows me to blame God for my lot in life. If I don’t believe in God, I can simply blame others. I tend to believe that there is a reason for my suffering. I don’t understand until I see my way through it and get the chance to reflect.

Think back on my biggest life lessons. How did I learn them? Was it by doing something I enjoyed? When I have fun, I have fun, but I don’t necessarily learn anything from my play. I see so many people wanting growth but only want this growth to feel pleasurable. I want growth but am too afraid or too comfortable to go through the necessary pain to receive that growth. I want to grow my muscles without ever working out. I’m no science person, but I know a catalyst is needed for change.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, this catalyst is pain. There’s a reason why I call these instances tests and trials. If I pass the test, I never have to go through that bit of suffering again. The test is proof that I’ve learned something. The biggest lesson, I believe, is to accept suffering as it is. Once I can do this, I can never suffer. Think about it: pain is no longer pain if I am expecting it. Soreness after a gym session doesn’t bother me because I know that it’s a byproduct of working out.

It’s shocking how just about all my stories have this narrative, and yet I still haven’t learned from it. I don’t put myself in the place of the main character. I’m sure a good amount of I have seen Game of Thrones. Let’s look at the character of Jon Snow. From the beginning of the book and show, Jon finds himself out of place as the “bastard” living amongst people who are not his own. He has a hard time finding a place of belonging. This pain becomes the catalyst to join the Night’s Watch, an ancient brotherhood that protects the realm from dangers beyond the Wall. He finds a sense of purpose here but still finds himself different than the brotherhood.

He eventually rises through the ranks and becomes Lord Commander of the Night Watch. Conflict only mounts for Jon when he decides to align with Free Folk (Wildlings) to protect them from the White Walkers. This controversial decision leads to his demise at the hands of his men. But like most hero journeys, there’s a resurrection.

If I look back at the character that is Jon Snow, I begin to realize that his alienation is what gives him the compassion to lead with a full heart. It’s what allows him to fall in love with someone who’s supposedly inferior to him in a Wildling, but also make the tough decision to put duty over his love for her. Jon Snow even went through betrayal but didn’t lose his sense of self when he was revived. He could have easily sought revenge, but he did not.

Even at the end of the series (spoiler alert), Jon decides to return to the wall instead of becoming the new king, along with the spoils and power that come with it. His upbringing, or better yet, his suffering, is what made him into the character I get to see every Sunday. It’s the character that I revere. I contrast this character with that of Prince Joffrey, who had everything, including the throne, handed to him. I hope I can start to see that the maturity of Jon Snow was only due to the perceived pain that I went through to make him the character I know and love.

My unsolicited advice is to not be surprised when something bad happens. Nothing is broken. Suffering is a feature of living in a world that has limits. My dualistic mind has me conditioned to believe that all I want is good and that I can somehow get rid of the bad. When something bad happens to me, I ask myself, “Why did this happen to me?” Funny that when something good happens to me, I never ask that question. In nondualism, I believe that all things are good. When I say all things, this is inclusive of what I perceive to be as bad. There’s no drowning out of bad. So, when something good happens to me, I am grateful. When something bad happens to me, I do the same.

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