"This too shall pass." For as long as I can remember my mother
has used this phrase, attributed to King Solomon, to ease my
pains. "This too shall pass" was her remedy to everything from
menstrual cramps to the infidelity of my past beaus. And with
good reason; the impermanence of painful times has been
discussed in every religious text and most best-selling
self-help books. Somewhere along the way, the words of the 1960s
band The Byrds (quoting the Book of Ecclesiastes) became our
pain-placating mantra "to everything there is a season and a
time for every purpose under heaven. A time to be born, a time
to die. A time to plant, a time to reap. A time to kill, a time
to heal. A time to laugh, a time to weep." We spend as much of
our time as possible trying to get the "time to weep" to pass
quickly. Many employ vices to hide quiet lingering pains, others
turn to faith. Neither of these things have really worked for
me. Have they for you?
I have spent years trying to battle the pains of past and
present, but never understood the true nature of my opponent
until my recent trip to Burning Man. Burning Man is an event
impossible to describe, so I will spare you a laundry list of
its wonders. I will say only that it was the greatest, most
powerful week of my life. And although most of my moments in the
Nevada desert were of the "Zippity Do Dah" variety, others were
the emotional equivalent of teething. My friends who had been in
previous years told me to expect personal growth there. I had
not factored in the pre-requisite growing pains. At Burning Man
I discovered a rare predicament: I could not cry.
As both an actress and a girl famous for her varied dramatic
outbursts, this was both surprising and unsettling. Nothing
could get the water works going. A highly anticipated kiss that
proved lackluster elicited a few gulping sniffs. The chafing of
my legs to the point of bleeding birthed a lot of soggy whining,
but I could not cry. My eyes could not produce the bittersweet
catharsis I sought to wash away the old issues and usher in the
new enlightenment I saw in the dust-covered revelers around me.
All this changed on my final trip to Burning Man's Basura
Sagrada Temple. On the final day of my journey, I set off in the
midst of the worst duststorm in recent history with my friend
Alison. This was to be our last "mini-quest" to the heart of
Burning Man. Alison and I took no water for our trek, nor lights
to guide the way (we did, however, find some highly prized
Chapstick.) We offered our excursion up to the tenet we had come
to live by in the desert, that everything happens just as it
should. Alison, a loving resident of New Orleans, was going to
commemorate the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. I was going to
process the casserole of emotions in my head. I was going to
cry.
When we finally reached the Temple, Alison and I parted ways. I
climbed the double helix stairs reading the Sharpie-written
prophecies, memorials, and words of wisdom along the way. I
claimed my space in a corner where I could barely make out the
sunset and the mountains through the dust. It's what I saw quite
vividly that made all the difference. There, above my head, in
black marker were the words "Bless This Necessary Pain." And
with that, my dry stretch was over. I wailed like Sally Field in
Steel Magnolias. When I descended the stairs, I had achieved the
peace I sought.
Necessary pain. Google it and you'll find people's articles and
diatribes about everything from accurate bookkeeping to
circumcision. These irritants, although painful in their own
right (I'm assuming, as I am neither a savvy financier nor a
boy) are not what I refer to. Google "pain" and you'll see a lot
of Viktor Frankl references. His "search for meaning" speaks to
a kind of suffering I pray that I will never know. I am not
referring to that kind of cruelty-born pain either as there is
nothing necessary about it. I refer only to the universal
gut-wrenchers, heart-breakers, and tear-jerkers: loss, regret,
betrayal, disappointment, sorrow. The things that kept the great
Mr. Gatsby on his dock night after night and 90210 on the air
year after year. These are the pains that leave you scarred and
panting at a crossroads. What I finally learned was, it's how
you face the crossroads that matters.
Physical pain is the body's signal to the mind that something is
wrong. ?When in pain, we immediately take steps: see a
doctor, take a pill, go back to bed. Shouldn't emotional pain,
therefore, give us pause as well? Fully addressing emotional
pain is a terrifying process. In short, if forces you to think.
It is here, in this state of awareness that personal growth is
truly possible. According to founder of analytical psychology
Carl Jung, "There is no coming to consciousness without pain."
For those of you who prefer novels to textbooks, Louisa May
Alcott said, "A significant emotional event can be the catalyst
for choosing a direction that serves us - and those around us -
more effectively." Some pains instantly change your course.
Others leave you lost in the dust merely considering your
options. In order to move on, an action must eventually be
taken.
Lucky for us, pain is an excellent motivator. As Japanese poet
Kenji Miyazawa put it, "We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel
for our journey." On the platform, my mother, the therapeutic
humorist, reminds people that good hair days and perfect
children are not the basis for humor. She quotes Carol Burnett,
explaining that "Humor is pain plus time." As an artist, I argue
that this pain plus time equation yields not only the
possibility for humor but for masterpieces. Without depression,
Cole Porter could not have written "Night and Day." Without
struggle, Ella Fitzgerald could not have sung it half as well.
Without pain, no one would have bought the record. This is the
contagious nature of pain. When realized and shared, it can
soothe not only its host but those willing to listen,
commiserate, and learn.
But before you resign yourself to a classic movie-induced
sobfest, take heed. Wallowing will get you nowhere. Remember
that pain must not be dwelt upon, simply dealt with and let go.
International best-seller The Pathway by Laurel Mellin outlines
a three-step process for using pain for growth. First, the
"unrealistic expectation." This is the thinking pattern or
desire that keeps us stuck in a rut. For example, you would like
a promotion at your job but don't want to put in the extra hours
required to lobby for it.
When split into pieces this reveals what the book calls the "essential pain," the true cost of whatever it is you really
want. In this case, extra effort without the guarantee of
success and the subsequent potential for dashed hopes and wasted
time. The book then argues that until you deal with these pains,
you cannot fully commit to your goals and therefore, they are
futile. These pains inform your decisions and course of action,
ultimately leading to the final step, the "earned reward." In
the best-case scenario, you are awarded the promotion. In the
worst case, you at least have the satisfaction of getting off
your butt and trying. Either outcome is heaps better than simply
wallowing or abandoning your goals before you start.
In the words of Lance Armstrong, who has become the poster-boy
for triumph in our times, "Pain is temporary. It may last a
minute or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will
subside and something else will take it place." This echoes the
refrain The Byrds sang decades before Lance's first Tour de
France, laid down in the Bible centuries ago. "For everything
(turn, turn, turn) there is a season." And, as Mommy always
said, "this too shall pass." The key lies in making the passing
moments, especially the painful ones, worth the battle.
DON'T TAKE MY WORD FOR IT!
"God whispers in our pleasures but shouts in our pain."
C.S. Lewis, Irish born author of The Chronicles of Narnia et al
"Pain is deeper than all thought; laughter is higher than all
pain."
Elbert Hubbard, American editor and writer
"Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional."
Buddhist proverb
"Pain pays the income of each precious thing."
William Shakespeare, British author of 38 plays, 154 sonnets,
and 2 long form poems
"The pain passes, but the beauty remains."
Pierre-Auguste Renoir, French Impressionist painter
"Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing
which to do is the worst kind of suffering."
Paulo Coehlo, Brazilian author of The Alchemist et al
"You feel your strength in your pain. It's all in how you carry
it."
Jim Morrison of American rock sensation The Doors
"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your
understanding."
Kahlil Gibran, Lebanese American poet and author of The Prophet
et al
What is Burning Man?
According to BurningMan.com, "Burning Man is an annual
experiment in temporary community dedicated to radical
self-expression and radical self-reliance." The annual festival
takes place for one week each year in the Black Rock Desert of
Nevada. Over 48,000 people from all over the world attended last
year.
Recommended Reading:
Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl
The Alchemist: A Fable About Following Your Dream by Paulo
Coehlo
The Pathway: Follow the Road to Health and Happiness by Laurel
Mellin
The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
Annie Passanisi, co-creator of SPARK magazine, is a
Chicago-based actor, singer, writer, marketer, and polka dot
enthusiast. For more information, please visit http://www.TheAnniePassanisi.com.
