Suffering: A Voice That Must Be Heard

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Someone is rude or indifferent to us, provoking our anger or upset; we fail to achieve the small and large goals we had planned and striven for, and a feeling of defeat and failure comes over us; we grow weary, disenchanted, and bored with our current possessions, which we once longed to acquire; we fall ill, and physical pain and the thought of the consequences the illness might bring torment us; someone attains a position or status, or acquires something, and this stirs our envy; we think about our missed opportunities and lament them with “if onlys”; we face the death of those to whom we are attached, and their loss makes us restless and sorrowful; the thought of what incidents and events could befall our health, our wealth, our job, and, in sum, our situation plunges us into the abyss of fear and anxiety. It is these successive and accumulated experiences that acquaint us with “suffering.” Of course, the feeling of suffering varies in quantity and quality among different individuals, each of whom is a world unto themselves; the thin-skinned person whose local shopkeeper did not warmly return their greeting is afflicted with suffering, just as the sincere, devoted lover suffers from separation from their beloved. Although sufferings can be manipulated in the short, medium, and long term, and their quality and quantity can be altered with techniques and methods, life tells us that its warp and woof are tied to suffering, and it does not seem to let go of us as long as we are alive; as if suffering is the cost of our being alive.

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Consider two captains who have taken their ship out to sea. Captain A has surrendered the ship’s helm to the sea, such that the wind and waves determine the ship’s direction and speed. Captain B, however, has taken the helm in hand and, as much as possible, strives to determine the ship’s direction and speed. If we assume both have gone to sea to carry out the same mission, such as fishing for sharks in a specific area, it is clear that we cannot interpret Captain A’s behavior as purposeful and on course to fulfill the mission, whereas we consider Captain B’s behavior as purposeful and directed toward fulfilling the mission. Thus, Captain A is passive in the face of the sea’s state and condition, and Captain B is active in the face of it.

Each of us, as long as we are alive, is the captain of the ship of our life. It is clear that you and I do not determine the direction and speed of this ship, and there are many circumstances and conditions that play a role in the quality of the life-ship’s movement and even the existence or non-existence of the ship itself. But in any case, you and I have been placed behind the helm of this ship, and we are compelled to take a stance and show a reaction to every state and condition, such as suffering, that arises in the sea of life.

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In general, we can have two types of views toward our inner world where suffering occurs.¹ One view is hostile, meaning we see our sufferings as an enemy; we are angry with them and look upon them with rage and hatred. In this type of view toward ourselves, a major part of our waking hours is spent in self-torment, distress, and restlessness, and our energy is consumed in this way, leaving fatigue in our body and soul.

Let us imagine kind parents who have a stubborn and mischievous child, such that controlling them at home, on the street, and at parties is very difficult, and a great deal of the parents’ energy is spent managing them. Although they do not approve of this level of naughtiness and never wished for a child with such characteristics, they do not see their child as an enemy but as their dearest, and they try to calm them with patience and kindness, with the help of a psychologist, and by employing scientific methods.

If we have this view toward ourselves and our sufferings, we have turned toward the other view, namely the friendly view. The friendly view toward oneself is a paternal and maternal view toward one’s own sufferings; it is as if the sufferings are our children, whom we must look upon as mischievous and stubborn children, embrace them with kindness and compassion, and teach them manners. It is with this type of peace-seeking view that we find a broader opportunity to draw closer to our sufferings, become ready to know them better, and our existential possibilities find the chance to open up before them.

Note

"Pathology of suffering" and, in particular, the distinction between these two ways of looking at suffering, is a possibility that arises from second-order cognition.² I know that I am suffering (first-order cognition), but I am also aware of this very awareness of suffering (that is, I know that I know I am suffering) and can think about the meaning and value of my sufferings; this is second-order cognition. Second-order cognition is a capacity that enables us to distance ourselves from first-order awarenesses, such as our suffering, and look at them from above, just as when we think about our way of looking at suffering and distinguish the hostile gaze from the friendly and compassionate gaze toward it.

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Looking at ourselves from above, or the second order, we realize that we usually have an active encounter with pleasant inner experiences such as peace and joy; we seek to create experiences or place ourselves in situations that generate such pleasant states in us—for instance, most of the time, traveling, taking leave, going to a restaurant, making an appointment with a friend, shopping, going to the mountains, and the like play such a role. In contrast, we usually have a passive encounter with the unpleasant experiences that bear the name of suffering on their foreheads; that is, when we become afflicted, it is as if we are "stricken" by it and merely play it out helplessly, saying with our unspoken state:

What choice is there but submission and consent?              In the clutches of a bloodthirsty male lion³

In other words, in times of joy, we are captains holding the helm of our ship in our own hands, and in times of sorrow, we are captains who see no share for ourselves; we appear to be helmsmen of the ship of our lives, but in reality, it is only the external conditions of the sea of life that carry our ship this way and that.

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In the external world, there are situations we call joy-bringing, and situations we call suffering-creating. For example, bathing in a cool pond in the summer can be a joy-bringing situation, and a colleague of equal rank receiving a promotion can be a suffering-creating situation. But joy itself or suffering itself are not entities that have an independent life outside of us; rather, they are states and experiences that occur within us and arise from the relationship that you and I have with external situations. Our colleague's promotion can be suffering-creating for me, of no importance to you, and a source of delight for another. Perhaps the reason for all these differences we have with one another in the amount and type of joys and sufferings stems from this very point. Thus, suffering and joy are events within us, not conditions outside of us.

By understanding the relationship we have with sufferings—that is, internal events that are the product of encountering the external world—we realize that it is the interpretive filters of our mind and consciousness that determine the meaning of external events and color them as suffering or otherwise. Therefore, we can consider suffering, which is the result of our interpretation and construal of external events, as a voice that has something to say to you and me and speaks of something that requires turning to the inner world and exploring it.

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If suffering is our playful and stubborn child, if suffering is an internal event that is the product of the kind of relationship we have with events and situations outside ourselves:

Let us look upon our failures, disappointments, sorrows, envies, hatreds, fears, anxieties, regrets, boredoms, grudges, and angers—which are our sufferings—with compassion and pity, and hear them. Sufferings have something to say, of the nature of an invitation, an invitation to begin an inner journey; an interior that awaits change.

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1- I learned these two perspectives from Dr. Arash Naraghi. See: Arash Naraghi's Facebook Thoughts

2-   Second-order cognition or Reflective self-consciousness. For a detailed introduction to this subject, see:

Phenomenological Approaches to Self-Consciousness

3- Masnavi-ye Ma'navi, Book Six; 577

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Suffering: A Voice That Must Be Heard

Author: Mehdi Ghafourian (PhD Graduate in Philosophy)

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