Pain is inevitable; suffering is optional.
Jason Brooker (Counselling/Psychotherapy)
My favourite Buddhist teaching is the analogy of the two arrows of suffering and pain. It is one I often speak to children about, but adults often benefit from it as well.
The first arrow is some adverse event which we did not ask for. For example, we are involved in an accident and have to spend several days in hospital. It coincides with a family holiday we had been looking forward to and now we can’t go. Inevitably, we are suffering pain. Perhaps the physical pain of the accident, but also the disappointment of missing out on the holiday. This is the first arrow. But the teaching tells us that any suffering that comes after this is what we cause ourselves. When we get upset about what has happened, when we moan about having to be in hospital, or even berate ourselves for being clumsy and having the accident in the first place, this is the second arrow. It is the arrow that we shoot at ourselves.
Much of what takes place in the therapeutic space is about how we can come to terms with what has happened to us, so that even if we can’t necessarily stop ourselves from shooting that second arrow, we can at least try to ensure it is not buried too deep so that it can be removed.
But of course, it is the way in which we do that. I wouldn’t be a good therapist if I simply said to someone to “cheer up.” Indeed, the first stage for many people is to actually acknowledge fully, their pain, because far too many people I work with, including children, are very good at burying their pain. As a society we are not very tolerant of other people’s suffering, and it leads many people to live their lives in constant avoidance of, not only their own pain, but of emotional expression.
We avoid pain and emotional expression in so many ways, whether it is alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex, video games, endless scrolling on our phones or simply burying ourselves in work.
And what I have learned through my work is that this avoidance prevents us of being true to ourselves and who we really are, and it very often leads to a lack of meaningful connection with those we are meant to be close to.
Social connection, more than anything else is at the heart of what I do. First my client learns to connect with me as I build up trust. Then they learn to reconnect with themselves as I help them to literally ‘feel’ their emotions through their bodies. And finally (hopefully) they are able to make more meaningful and fulfilling connections with the other people in their lives.
I will give you one story of a young girl I worked with. It sums up perfectly what I mean, and it encapsulates for me why I love my work so much when I see how powerful connection can be.
Jasmine (not her real name) was 15 years old when she was referred to me. I worked with her for nearly a year. (She had suffered a significant trauma, but we won’t go into that). My work with her was to help her come to terms with what had happened and to make sense of her life going forward. It was difficult work because at this time she was not enjoying a good relationship with either of her parents. Towards the end of our work, I suggested we might get her parents in for a session (separately). She agreed. The ground rules were that they were not allowed to talk until near the end of the hour, when invited to do so. They were merely to observe.
In a particularly moving moment towards the end of the session with dad, he apologised to Jasmine for not always treating her very well, and taking his own stress out on her. He then told her he loved her, which I felt had been really important for him to say.
In my next session with Jasmine, she seemed somehow happier and lighter than she had ever been before. She told me, with a tear in her eye that she couldn’t remember her dad ever saying that he loved her before. It had been a very profound moment for both of them and I am sure a turning point because our work together finished soon after this and both parents and Jasmine reported just how significantly their relationship had improved.
I am reminded of a quote from Victor Hugo;
“ The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved.”
But love comes in many forms, and often in my work I am helping people to love themselves again.
I feel that the environment in which I do my work is really important for this, which is why it has been such a great privilege to work at Mederi. This is a place where people come for self-nourishment and in doing so they have already taken that very important step of putting their own needs first for once.