The crucial difference between pain and suffering.

Purple heart-shaped prickly pear leaf

“Pain is inevitable; suffering is optional.” This statement drives my clients bananas, and not in a good way.

After giving you three ways and then three more ways crappy theology might be causing you to suffer, I want to be clear about how I understand the difference between suffering and pain.

Many theological, spiritual, life-coachy teachers use them interchangeably. I wish they wouldn’t. There is absolutely nothing redeeming about suffering except that maybe eventually we get tired of it and we learn how not to do it.

Pain, on the other hand, can be the beginning of healing.

Pain is what you feel when you hit your thumb with a hammer—nerves fire and send distress signals to your brain to activate your body’s healing response. Suffering is when you call yourself an idiot because you hit your thumb with a hammer.

Pain is the elemental grief you feel when your mother dies, and you miss her bodily presence in the world. Suffering is the sludge you begin to swim in when you think she shouldn’t have died, or that she did dying wrong.

Pain is what you feel in your knee when bone rubs against bone. Suffering is when you think you shouldn’t have arthritis in your knee, or that you caused the arthritis in your knee, or that people who have arthritic knees are old and useless.

Pain and suffering feel different in your body. Pain opens you up and moves through you, making you bigger in the process. Pain is time-limited. It rises and subsides. Suffering closes you down and shrinks you, and it can hang around for decades, until you finally see it for the choice it is and do the work to release it. (Want to explore this together? Contact me here to schedule.)

Pain is creative and healing. Suffering is victimhood and it will kill you.

Pain opens you up for rebirth, for the next stage, iteration, creation of who you are becoming. Suffering keeps you stuck and stagnant and refusing to ride the holy wheel of change. Too bad, because resistance to change is ultimately futile. Change is the way of the universe, and refusing to go along with the divine program will only cause you to suffer.

Pain is a human response to something outside of us—aging, death, illness, loss, injury. Suffering we do to ourselves.

One Buddhist term for suffering is the “second arrow.” The first arrow strikes us from outside. We shoot the second arrow ourselves, at ourselves.

My dad’s fatal accident and my mom’s too-young cancer death were painful. They came from outside of me and were events over which I had no control. But I caused my own suffering when I made these circumstances mean things about me and about the nature of God. When I made them mean that I was expendable and didn’t deserve love, and that the Universe is capricious and cruel, I was causing myself suffering.

Their deaths were the first arrow. I didn’t know that all I needed to do about their deaths was grieve them. To feel the incredible loss, and to explore the contours of these new holes in my heart. My only job was to feel the pain, and to heal.

What sane alternative do any of us have to events outside our control that cause us such pain? Resisting reality causes suffering. Judging ourselves causes suffering. Shooting that second arrow into ourselves causes suffering.

Go ahead and feel the pain, knowing it will pass. Your heart is big enough, I promise you. 

Pain heals you. Suffering only keeps you in hell.

A few resources:

Here’s Buddhist psychotherapist Dr. Tara Brach on the subject of pain and suffering: https://www.tarabrach.com/the-dance-with-pain/

Practitioners of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) call suffering “dirty pain.” In this Unf*ck Your Brain podcast episode Kara talks about the difference between clean pain and dirty pain, and how to get yourself out of dirty pain. https://unfuckyourbrain.com/clean-v-dirty-pain/

Photo by Sarah Wolfe on Unsplash

PS. My weekly letter is where you’ll find updates for my coaching business – openings, events, and new classes. You can subscribe here. Thanks!

Three more ways crappy theology causes suffering.

Open gate leading to sun-filled meadow

Last week I wrote about three ways I see crappy theology cause suffering for my clients. These lies, taught to us by (usually) well-meaning people, are in there so deep we don’t recognize them as made-up ideas that just aren’t true.

We know they’re not true because they cause us to suffer.

In case you missed it, here are the first three lies.

Lie #1: Jesus died for your sins. On the contrary, God and Jesus aren’t concerned about how you in your wickedness are breaking their rules. What they are concerned about is how much you love yourself, each other, and the world. The only sin is failing to love.

Lie #2: God despises the world and “things of the flesh.” On the contrary, God IS the world. The world is made of God. As the bumper sticker puts it: The Earth is my church. My body is the altar.

Lie #3: God has a plan for your life, and your job is to figure it out and follow it. On the contrary, Creator God is always at work, and all She wants from you is to be the fullest version of yourself you can be, right now, at this moment.

Three more lies:

Lie #4: You need to be perfect, as God is perfect.  On the contrary, beloved, God wants you to be yourself in all your miraculous messiness. God loves your messiness.

The word translated as “perfect” in many versions of the Bible (Matthew 5:48) would be better translated as “whole.” (I like Eugene Peterson’s rendering in The Message: “In a word, what I’m saying is, Grow up. You’re kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.”)

Being human is messy and unpredictable, and you’re making yourself crazy and miserable when you try to be perfect. As Anne Lamott says: “Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life ….” Be whole instead, beloved. Be whole.

Lie #5: Following your heart and your desires is evil, and being “selfish” is bad. On the contrary, beloved, your desires are holy and necessary. God wants you to want what you want.

When we believe that wanting something is bad, we fight against ourselves and our deepest longings. Instead of honoring our soul’s yearnings, we talk ourselves out of them and we lose ourselves in the process. This is an especially insidious one for women, who are expected to be the caretakers of the world while staffing bake sales, cleaning toilets, and never ever saying NO. (I am NOT saying to act out every desire you have. What I am saying is that every desire has wisdom for you. Honor that wisdom. Listen for it.)

It’s a cliché, I know, and it’s still true: Put on your own oxygen mask first. Only then will you be full enough to give when it’s your turn to give.

Lie #6: God is outside of you, “up there” somewhere, separate from this messy world and its pain. On the contrary, beloved, God is Mother, here with us.

God is not “the man upstairs” or the spirit in the sky. God is not our Father in Heaven. 

When we believe this lie, we make the disembodied sacred and the bodied profane. We make spirit good and flesh bad. We then look outside ourselves for guidance and answers, and we avoid our adult responsibility to listen for the Wisdom within. We’re incapable of giving our gifts freely, because we’ve forgotten who we are.

God your Mother inhabits your everyday moments. She is as common as dirt. And She loves your body like a mother.

Oh, my beloveds. These lies cause so much suffering. They leave us contorted and stuck and so self-critical we’re paralyzed with shame and self-loathing.

You can feel their destructive power when you hold them in your body. Try saying one lie and notice how your body feels. Now say the truth (use my “On the contrary … “ formulation or your own words) and notice how your body feels. Lies cause suffering. Can you feel how you stop suffering when you disbelieve the lies causing you to suffer?

Beloved, you are not called to suffer. Being human on Earth is full of pain. Being human on Earth is full of joy, too.

Please take your suffering seriously. Look underneath your suffering and find the crappy theology causing it. We can do that together if you want to.

Heal crappy theology and you heal yourself.

We need you whole, healthy, and healed. We need you telling the truth. We need you raising your voice in the wilderness so we can find each other.

PS. A deep bow of gratitude to you voices in the wilderness who joined our inaugural Community Conversation on June 17. We were witnesses for each other’s pain and joy, and we formed deep community almost from the first moment. I’m so grateful to meet you “face to face,” and look forward to our next gathering on Tuesday, July 13, at 2:00 pm Pacific. Newsletter subscribers will get the Zoom link the day before. Missed the first one? No worries. You can join anytime.

PPS. I’ll be sending emails only to my weekly letter list beginning on July 1st. Email subscribers will get new content, current offerings, and notifications of upcoming events delivered straight to their inbox. You can subscribe here, and thanks!

Photo by Nikola Knezevic on Unsplash

Is crappy theology causing you to suffer?

Open gate leading to sun-filled meadow

“But what about God??”

Beloveds, I’m hearing this question a lot these days. I hear it from friends, parishioners, and clients.

I hear it most loudly from within myself.

I’ve stopped even remotely trying to fit the round peg of all of me into the square hole of who patriarchal religious tradition says I should be. Since my abstention from church, my relationship with God is fuller. More whole. Healthier. Holier.

I’m not fighting back so much. I’m softer and stronger. I’m more open to the God energy’s yearning to flow into me, through me, and out into the world.

 I’ve even begun using the name “God” again. Although “God” means something/someone very different that it used to mean, for me.

God has many names. There are probably as many names for God as there are humans. We all experience God energy uniquely, because we’re unique.

Other (usually male) people’s theology has supplied us names and labels, and described our experience as good or bad, in or out. Some of us fit nicely into the square holes delineated by the theology we received from our families and culture. Some of us maybe did once but we just don’t anymore. Some of us never did, and we stopped trying long ago.

Becoming an adult means taking responsibility for your own theology. Because your theology underlies everything.

Your theology determines your relationship to your body. Your theology determines how much you trust or don’t trust your desires. Your theology determines every choice you make.

I’m using the word “theology” deliberately. I’m not talking about your spirituality. I’m not talking about your religion. I’m talking about your beliefs about God, period. Your theology is lived out in your spirituality and your religion. Your theology comes first.

Every unhappiness is a result of crappy theology.

Perhaps you believe lies you learned about God. Lies that cause you to suffer.

Lie #1: Jesus died for your sins.

On the contrary, beloved, Jesus doesn’t give a rat’s rooty-poo about sin, and neither does God. God’s only care is for your love for yourself, for others, and for the Earth. When you focus on sin, you focus on what’s wrong with you, on what you don’t deserve, and on how you can prove your worth. Which you never can, by the way. The premise is rotten to the core.

Lie #2: God despises the world and “things of the flesh.”

On the contrary, beloved, God IS creation. God IS your flesh. We are made of God, and God is made of us. We and God are interwoven. You are holy. Your flesh is holy. Your desires are holy. When you believe God doesn’t love your body, you don’t trust your desires and, because you live in a body, you’re never good enough. This self-loathing is quadrupled at least for women, because we live in bodies that change all the dang time.

Lie #3: God has a plan for your life, and your job is to figure it out and follow it. You have to strive mightily for your purpose and meaning.

On the contrary, beloved, Creator God is always at work. This means that who you are, as a member of God’s body, is always changing. Your job is to be the fullest version of yourself you can be in this moment. And then this moment. And now this one, too. Forever and ever until you die, and maybe after. Your job is to ride the wheel of change with trust and joy, grieving what’s dead and fully becoming the new you being born.

I could go on, and I will. Stay tuned.

So notice where you’re suffering. Then look beneath your suffering for the flawed theology causing your suffering. I promise you that it’s there. (Want to look together? Here’s how.)

We need you to do your grown-up theological work, and we need you to share your conclusions with us. When we do this work together, we strengthen each other. We find community. We create a new world, a world closer to God’s dream for Creation. We envision a new future, and together we find the strength and grace to incarnate it.

PS. Our first Community Conversation happens on June 17th at 9:00 am Pacific. Subscribe to my weekly letter for the link.

PPS. I’ll be sending emails only to my weekly letter list beginning on July 1st. Email subscribers will get new content, coaching opportunities, and notifications of upcoming events delivered straight to their inbox. You can subscribe here, and thanks!

Photo by Nikola Knezevic on Unsplash

Let God call you “Sweetcakes” for Christmas.

This Christmas, let God call you "sweetcakes."

Forty years ago my dad died while skiing in Keystone, Colorado. That event put the cherry on top of the decade that undid me. I’d been mostly holding myself together through my parent’s divorce when I was 12, my big brother and eventually my little sister leaving to live with my dad, my dad’s subsequent three marriages, and my mom dating and marrying a man who violated me. Despite all that, I was still remarkably intact. Until December 15, 1979.

That sunny December morning shattered me. From that day on, the world felt lined by broken glass.

As children do, I made sense of my dad’s sudden death and all that had come before by concluding that I must be a bad person and I deserved this pain. So I renewed my efforts to be a good girl who followed the rules and did as she was told. Like many women living under patriarchy, I had a deep sense that I just wasn’t good enough, so I practiced other-focused, people-pleasing behavior and created a life that was too small.

I was desperate for ways to make life not hurt so damn much. Sharp surfaces, piercing nails, rattlesnakes with poisonous fangs – they seemed to be everywhere. So I stayed little and quiet and I stuck to well-trodden trails, striving to pad myself and blend in and make myself useful. A bad person pretending to be good.

I spent forty years seeking solace outside myself, searching for places that didn’t hurt. Trying to find answers to the wrong question. Looking outside myself, when what I needed to do was see the lie and let it go. I was trying to figure out how to live in a world of broken glass, since that seemed to be what I deserved, rather than allowing myself to see that I’d made the world of broken glass with my own mind.

I’ve realized that forty years is long enough to wander in the wilderness of suffering and self-loathing. The meaning I made from that terrible decade – that I’m not worthy of love and respect, that bad things only happen to bad people – is a lie. I know it’s a lie because I feel hard and separated from my soul when I believe it.

This lie of self-loathing can only be healed by choosing to believe the uncomfortable truth that God doesn’t make junk. Even squirrels have value and worth. All creation is holy and worthy and beloved, just because it exists. Value is intrinsic. It doesn’t have to be earned. We are born perfect.

The false belief my clients have in common, the core thought causing them distress, is this: “I’m not good enough. I have to try harder. I have to pretend to be perfect.”

Focusing on that false belief doesn’t heal it. Focusing on the false belief only cements it deeper. That belief is a habit. That’s all. We break old destructive habits by building new, better habits.

So shine a light on that false belief just long enough to identify it, and then set about gently dismantling the lie. Don’t take the wrecking ball to the lie, or do battle with it. Just focus, instead, on healing your brain by believing new, life-giving thoughts. “I am okay. I am enough. I am necessary. I am priceless.” Just five minutes a day will begin to weaken the old false beliefs and begin to build a home for the ages. The too-small dilapidated house you’ve been living in will slowly crumble and blow away.

Gently give your heart, who’s known all along that you are beloved and precious, light and rain and warmth.

The seed of your true self has been waiting for just such conditions to sprout.

She will burst her armored shell, break forth, and sing. Your small life will be broken open and will never be the same. The world changes when you become yourself.

I know now the World cried with us when my dad died on that mountain. Holiness was in the trenches with me as my world fell apart. Light was shining through the broken glass. Love has been holding my hand all along, leading me out of the wilderness back home to myself.

Christmas, the Feast of the Incarnation, is God saying “Yes” to us. The Divine is telling us this fleshy human life is beautiful.

This Christmas, hear Holiness say, “You matter. You are necessary. You belong. You are perfect.”

This Christmas, hear God calling you “Sweetcakes.” She says it every moment of every day. Listen. Let Love in.

God Says Yes To Me

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don’t paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I’m telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

Kaylin Haught, From The Palm of Your Hand. © Tilbury House Publishers, 1995.

Photo by Denys Nevozhai on Unsplash