It is often said: “If the mind does not die, awareness cannot be born. If the heart does not suffer, wisdom cannot open.”
Pain and suffering, as difficult as they may be, are sometimes life’s quiet invitations to let go of what no longer serves us. What we often perceive as a sudden wound has usually been forming over time—through small signals, subtle discomforts, quiet nudges from life itself. If we ignore these gentle signs, life may eventually speak louder—no longer a whisper on the shoulder, but a hammer to the heart.
When life hits us hard, we are faced with a choice—not always of circumstances, but of how we respond. We can ask:
- Why me? Why is life so unfair? Why do I have to bear this pain?
It is natural to feel bitter, disappointed, or resentful.
Or we can gently shift the question:
- This hurts deeply. I carry this wound with me. So… what will I do next?
When we learn to ask different questions, we are no longer just victims of our pain. We begin to reclaim authorship of our lives. We become the caretakers of our own healing.
Try this:
Write down your most honest emotions each day. Let your heart speak, uncensored.
Notice your patterns—your feelings, your reactions, your moments of silence and storm.
Take a 20-minute silent walk. Breathe. Listen.
And ask yourself, not in judgment, but in gentle curiosity:
This pain is here. What is life trying to teach me through it?
If you need time to mourn, to grieve, to simply sit with your sadness—that is okay. Be patient. Be kind to yourself. Healing is not a race; it is a rhythm.
We do not glorify pain—but we do honor the courage it takes to move through it. The pain is not sacred, but the strength it awakens in us can be.
Do not let your thoughts spiral into darkness. You have the power to choose a gentler, more loving perspective. When external pain breaks apart all that we’ve clung to, something deeper—something wise—can begin to emerge.
In that moment, we are not broken.
We are becoming.
We are reborn.
With love,
Little-pencil
Little-pencil 