Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.33

About pain: The pain that is intolerable carries us off, but that which lasts a long time is tolerable.

And the mind maintains its own tranquility by retiring into itself, and the ruling faculty is not made worse.

But the parts that are harmed by pain, let them, if they can, give their opinion about it.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

My own most urgent reason for starting to follow Stoicism was facing the problem of pain. Whether it was physical or emotional, dull and throbbing or sharp and stabbing, I found that it was never quite enough for me just to tough it out. I could put on a strong appearance, but pain would still seem to eat me up inside. There were many times I was sure I could no longer stand it.

Now some people advised me to bear with it, or to ignore it, or to take it as a punishment, or to offer it up, or to view it as a test. I wouldn’t wish to deny them their successes, but none of this was ever enough for me at that time. My problem, I think, was that I was still defining myself only by such suffering, instead of recognizing that I could move through and beyond suffering, that I was more than only what I felt. I was also what I thought, and my thinking could find meaning and purpose in any circumstance.

My body may hurt, or my feelings may hurt, but my mind only hurts when I allow my own judgments to be hurtful. It sounds so terribly simple, but as soon as I am aware that pain does not need to have any direct power over my mind and choice, over my ability to understand and to love, then I no longer need to let it affect me as it once did. It may hack away at the outside, but the inside can remain intact.

Of whatever kind or degree, suffering will either destroy my body, in which case I am relieved and free of it, or it will remain bearable, in which case I can still be relieved and free of it. If it’s too much, Nature will let me go. If it’s still not too much, Nature gives me what I need to keep going. It need never be a burden, but it becomes an opportunity, and my thinking alone will make it so.

I can let my body cry out, and I can let my feelings express their frustration; I should never assume that pain will simply disappear, or that I can pretend it isn’t real. It is real, and there is a reason Nature provides it, so that I may listen to it. I can indeed let all the other parts of me tell how they feel, but then I am called to understand, not merely to submit.

Yes, it hurts. Now I can use it to make myself better, by relying on what is truly my own. That is peace of mind. 

Written in 11/2007