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"It was during the period when I was a student in the Graduate School of Philosophy at Harvard University that, finally, I became convinced of the probable existence of a transcendent mode of consciousness that could not be comprehended within the limits of our ordinary forms of knowledge."
Franklin Merrell-Wolff,
Philosophy of Consciousness Without an Object
The above is from a book I read sometime in the 1970's, and was one of the first indications I personally was able to find that seemed to promise some experience of life that was other than the one I seemed doomed to have. It started me seeking in a way that allowed for the possibility of finding. The idea of 'a transcendent mode of consciousness' spoke to my felt need to escape from what my Lutheran forbears referred to as 'this vale of tears;' for what I had been taught, and what I found myself constrained to experience, was just that. A vale of tears. An experience of life that promised nothing and delivered even less. It was as if I had been taught to hate myself, to suffer, and that anything I did to alleviate my suffering made me even more worthy of suffering. And on and on.
I don't think I'm unique in this. I think that many people today have been taught to suffer; taught that they deserve to suffer; taught, even, that suffering is in some way a virtue. Those who can suffer in silence, who can continue on in spite of every reason to quit, these are our heroes. Last week in the L.A. Times there was an article about Dirk Nowitzki playing in the NBA Finals with a 101 degree fever, and then a litany of others who won despite illness and injury: Kirk Gibson hitting his two-run homer to win Game One of the '88 World Series with a sprained knee (the Dodgers went on to win the Series in five. It was Gibson's only at bat.); Kerri Strug sticking a one-foot vault landing in the '96 Olympics to give the U.S. gymnastics team the gold; Bert Trautmann, a goalie for Manchester City Football Club, who in the 1956 FA Cup, continued to play with a broken neck because his team had no substitutes left. Manchester won.
These men and women all were feted as heroes, and rightly so. And many regular men and women show up above and beyond the call of duty, parenting, working, saving lives, putting food on the table for their families even when they are sick or injured, and they, too, are worthy of our respect. But these are people pushing past their limitations in order to succeed, showing up in spite of the pain and discomfort. It's the insistence on being present and alive that is worthy of our recognition and respect, not the suffering itself.
This is not to say that pain does not exist. Of course it does. And there are times it cannot be avoided. But suffering is another story. Suffering is perhaps the pain we feel about being in pain. It is the self-obsession that sets in when we cannot get out of the pain, cannot see past the pain. Suffering is not a virtue. If it is presented as such, it is only because the person doing the presenting doesn't know how to get out of it, doesn't know how to end suffering. And how do we end suffering? The answer is two-fold: by finding our own way of experiencing this 'transcendent mode of consciousness,' and then getting present. Bringing ourselves right here, right now, again and again and again, as many times as it takes, and refusing to buy into the old mode of thinking that tells us to continue to suffer.
Today I will refuse to suffer. Even if I am in pain. Especially if I am in pain.
Highline, New York
All material copyright Jeff Kober
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