TLDR: Is ‘moving on’ about forgetting or embracing memories? Explore the depths of grief and healing in the Buddhist context.
The term “move on” can have two drastically different meanings: it can refer to someone who has passed away and moved on from this human existence, or it can mean someone has moved on from a situation or relationship in their life. Both interpretations carry profound weight and stir up deep emotions within us.
If we’re talking about death, the idea of a loved one moving on is gut-wrenching. The finality of it, the loss, the absence that will forever linger – it’s a pain that cuts deep into the soul (or the lack thereof). We’re left with memories, remnants of the person who was once such a vital part of our lives, now fading away into photographs and echoes of their voice.
For the recent accident at Tampines, I can’t imagine how the loved ones of the deceased would feel. Gone so suddenly are the loved ones you just said ‘bye’ to in the morning.
Moving on in this sense means finding the strength to keep living without their physical presence, honouring their memory, and carrying forth the love they cultivated within us.
But “moving on” can also refer to the end of a relationship, a romance, a connection that was once profound but has reached its expiration. This too is agonizing, and in some sense, similar to the pain of a loved one dying.
Untethering & What’ifs
Yet, the grief is tinted with different hues – the hot sting of heartbreak, the hollowness of being untethered from someone who meant everything, and the haunting “what ifs” that pervade the mind. Here, moving on is an exercise in letting go, in allowing ourselves to heal and progress despite the longing and attachment we feel to this person who was once our world.
If you’ve ever had to move on from a lover, you know the desolation of it all too well. That person was your confidant, your sanctuary, the one you poured your heart into with abandon.
And now they are gone, opted out, and moved on themselves, leaving you with a void that feels inescapable. When my last relationship ended, it felt like the ground had disappeared beneath my feet. They had become my anchor during difficult times.
The advice here is simple in theory yet excruciatingly difficult in practice: you must allow yourself to feel it all.
The anguish, the anger, the disbelief – let every emotion course through you, hold nothing back. Scream into your pillow, cry until your eyes sting, write lamentations into the depths of night. For it is only by feeling it fully that the pain can begin to lose its brutality over time. You must resist the urge to repress, to slap on fake smiles and hollow out your heart. That path leads to entombed heartache that will sabotage any future joy.
It may feel endless, this confronting of your hurt, but it is far braver than turning your back on the storm of emotions within. Talk to loved ones, write, meditate on acceptance – do whatever appropriate rituals help to alchemize this transition.
And be endlessly compassionate and patient with yourself. You wouldn’t berate a friend for aching over this loss, so afford yourself that same tenderness.
There is no schedule for healing, only the choice to consciously feel and consciously heal.
This echoes how the Buddha advised King Pasenadi when the king’s queen passed away. It could be summarised into three areas:
1. Reflect on the universality and impermanence of change and death. All beings experience loss, so put the personal sting in perspective.
2. Express your grief through skillful means like eulogies, donations and wise sayings. Heal your heart by dedicating merit to your loved one and encouraging goodness in others.
3. Remind yourself that there is still purpose to be found – get back to meaningful work for your well-being and that of others. Channel energy into positive actions rather than unhelpful displays of grief.
Only in Time
In time, the lacerations will scab over and scar. You will think of this person less, or think of them as a figure from your past rather than an acute absence.
Small joys will find a way to bloom again in the spaces within you that were temporarily dormant.
This is the purpose of moving on – to clear space for something new to grow in its own time, whether that be peace, rekindled passions, or another great love. But that process cannot begin until we have fully reckoned with the loss and lovingly attended to the tender, wounded parts of our hearts.
So let the moving on be anguished and visceral. Let it be long, bittersweet epiphanies in journaling and drives where you scream along to songs. Let it be whatever it must be to exorcise the hurt in order to move forward as your most liberated, healed self.
Your heart deserves to be uncaged and to beat robustly again in this life, no matter how excruciating the journey to getting there may be.
The Greatest Tragedy
Ultimately, the greatest tragedy after being left behind would be to abandon yourself in the process. Too often, the patterns that emerge look like: lashing out with corrosive self-judgment, indulging in sensual escapes, forcibly detaching from your emotional world through workaholism or thrill-seeking.
For me, work threw me a lifeline, giving my restless mind an escape from replaying memories on loop. But the ache was still there on long MRT rides home. Was I able to find solace in the cells of my excel spreadsheet? You bet I didn’t.
This path of self-alienation robs you of the vital parts needed to truly heal. It’s your gentleness, your willingness to feel, your commitment to authenticity – these are the fertile seeds of rebirth amidst the ashes.
Tears to flow, shoulders to lean on
So allow the tears to flow, without judgment or forcing them away. Lean on loved ones who can compassionately share the burden of processing this loss. Speak the unspeakable – how much you still care for this person, yet realize they could not meet you fully. Be tenderly devoted to your own heart through this; she is the one who will nurture you into your next becoming.
Every part of you is essential, no matter how insignificant this experience tries to make you feel.
You are so much more than this ending. This heartbreak need not brutalize you. Nurture a deep connection with the Dhamma, allowing it to guide you towards greater love and understanding, both for yourself and others.
It took me by surprise that over a year later, I could look at old photos (deleted from my instagram public feed) without the same sting. Healing truly is gradual.
Wise Tips:
1. Fully feel and release the pain without repression. Buddhism teaches that resistance to the truth of suffering only prolongs it. Allow yourself to grieve viscerally – scream, cry, write it out. Only by feeling the anguish fully can you ultimately metabolize and release it. Resisting or repressing the pain will only entomb it within you.
2. Practice profound self-compassion and surrender to impermanence. Berate yourself for the depth of your love, for that openness of heart is one of life’s most sacred gifts. Visualize releasing every shred of attachment to this person, the narratives you’d built, and the mementos of your bond. Grieve each letting go, but keep letting go until you have utterly surrendered to impermanence.
May you rejoice in the merits of this Dhamma contribution and be well and happy wherever you go.
TLDR: Joey shares her emotional journey following the sudden loss of a lifelong friend to cancer, leading her to embrace the power of gratitude and find deeper meaning in life.
The Shocking Diagnosis
“Bad news, it’s a mass. Need to do biopsy now to check.”
It was a Whatsapp message from you. My mind went blank. I resisted the urge to Google “mass in lungs diagnosis.” I did not want my imagination to run wild.
After enduring a prolonged cough and episodes of breathlessness that persisted despite visits to several GPs, you went for a specialist check-up at a hospital and were admitted immediately.
A friendship that withstood time
I have known you since Secondary 1. Although we were not in the same class, we were batchmates in Girl Guides and our friendship blossomed. Over the next 25 years, we journeyed together through important milestones of our teenage years. Coming from dysfunctional families, we became each other’s confidantes and support when stressful incidents at home were too overwhelming.
I could not recall the exact number of through-the-night phone calls, late-night hangouts, or sleepovers we had. We sang, chatted, and watched TV, and only went home when the storms had fully subsided.
“I’m really very scared. My girl is still so young.”
This was your subsequent message before I could draft a comforting reply to your previous one.
Journeying through life’s milestones together
As we stepped into adulthood and got swept up in our careers, we did not meet as often. But we witnessed each other through major life events, celebrating our joyful moments and exchanging encouragements during challenging times — landing dream jobs, bad bosses, heartbreaks, death in the family, getting married, securing our BTO, and becoming mothers.
Our friendship had only strengthened with time, expanding to include our families. There is something magical about watching our kids play together. I fondly reminisced about the fun times we had during our youthful days.
I once told you that I hoped we would still meet up regularly for tea in our golden years to complain about our husbands, children, and perhaps grandchildren.
You said you imagined it would be hard to hold your tears in on your daughter’s wedding day.
Confronting the Unthinkable
“Likely is stage 4. I need to do chemo”
My heart sank. Thousands of thoughts ran through my mind. “But we are only 37. What about her girl? She is only 6. What is the prognosis? This is too sudden. This can’t be happening. Am I dreaming?”
“Thanks for watching over my child and family. Love you girls,” was your last message to me.
Over the next week, I watched you deteriorate rapidly, confined to the ICU, unable to talk or eat, and remaining sedated as cancer ravaged your lungs, stomach, and brain.
I always believed that you would overcome this, that you could return home and recover. I knew that you were strong-willed and you did your best. But health is beyond our control.
You left us one month after your stage-4 lung cancer diagnosis. It was too sudden, too unexpected, and too tough for me to accept.
Everything feels surreal. Seeing you lifeless on a hospital bed, surrounded by those closest to you. Your funeral. Your cremation. It’s like a bad dream unfolding, and I’m powerless to stop, wake up, and find relief in the realisation that it was only a dream.
Life, Death, and Illusions
Death is the one life event that will happen to us with 100% certainty. However, it remains an abstract concept for many. Why is that so?
Our brains are great illusionists, often failing to let us perceive the true nature of reality.
The human brain is programmed to draw from our lived experiences to create a neural map of our lives, incorporating relationships with people, places, things, routines, habits, and expectations.
It is a mechanism to help the brain “save computing power”, enabling us to make sense of and predict what is happening moment by moment. The possibility of your death was nowhere in my neural map; my brain needed time to assimilate this fact and rewrite its algorithm to navigate this world without your presence.
I hope that after my brain has integrated the code “death of a loved one”, I will gain a little more wisdom to be closer to ultimate reality.
However, the way our brain is wired prevents us from seeing things as they truly are.
It tends to gather information through our five senses, making false assumptions and setting unreal expectations about how events should unfold or how our relationships with others should be. It likes to take shortcuts to conserve energy, clinging to an old mindset or defaulting to comfortable habits and routines.
Our brains want to exist in a predictable, permanent, and lasting world.
And so, we grasp, we chase, and we shun.
Seeking Meaning in the Midst of Loss
We pursue the next high-paying job, promotion, or the latest flashy phone, car, or house. We take for granted that our family and friends will always be there. We avoid discussing illness and death because we cannot imagine a future where either we or our loved ones will be gone.
Your death has prompted me to reflect on what makes life meaningful and where my priorities should lie.
If we want to have a better life with fewer regrets and more joy, we need to rely on the Dharma to overwrite the faulty algorithms in our brains.
The first week after I lost you was excruciatingly painful.
My mind struggled to accept that you would be forever absent from my future. I believed we would have many more chances to continue our yearly tradition of surprising each other with birthday gifts and treats.
Now that you are gone, I wonder: do you know how much I love and cherish our friendship? I was engulfed by overwhelming loss and sorrow. Soon, this morphed into a feeling of unfairness. The cancer had stolen my best friend, robbing all hopes, possibilities, and dreams of watching the kids grow up as we grow old together.
“Grief is love with no place to go” – is a popular quote to describe grief.
As time passed, grief silently reshaped itself within the contours of my daily life. I found this quote untrue. While life comes to an end, love lives on. The love and connection we share live on within us. It endures even after death.
With your passing, our friendship has transcended beyond the physical dimension of space and time, transforming into a spiritual relationship. You remain my best friend in this lifetime. I express my love through internal dialogues with you, often wondering about your journey in the next life and dedicating prayers, well-wishes, and merits to you.
In our physical world, where most relationships are transactional, our understanding of love can be restricted. Our expressions of love are sometimes limited to tangibles such as gifts, time, and physical touch.
The Buddha taught us about love and compassion, which is the wish for sentient beings to be free from suffering and attain happiness. A concept that is easy to grasp but difficult to embrace. If we ponder closely, love and compassion are a spiritual state of mind more than they are physical actions.
“The space is boundless,
So does your compassion.
You wish to be all living beings’ bridge [to the other shore],
It was 4 am and I lost sleep. It was the first night after your passing. You were such a devoted mother, dutiful wife, responsible worker, and one of the kindest friends I ever had.
Why did this have to happen? I have always believed that every significant person and event in our lives is there to teach us important lessons.
Yet losing you so suddenly to cancer seems senseless. We did not even get to say a proper goodbye. I kept questioning myself repeatedly: what was the lesson I needed to learn? I just could not fathom it.
We had been a part of each other’s life for 25 years and remained so close. It felt like a beautiful story which needed to end abruptly and the author struggled to write a conclusion to make it a meaningful read.
As I lay in bed, a deep sorrow gripped my heart tightly. The intense pain in my chest grew every minute, making it hard to breathe. It was too unbearable.
At the next moment, I felt love surrounding me and then enveloping me. It was a peaceful and kind energy that wrapped around me, consoling me with its warm presence, telling me that it knows my pain and suffering. That this too shall pass.
Gradually, the tightness in my chest subsided. I felt lighter. Tears flowed freely, and gratitude surged through every cell in my body. I was certain it was you. I finally knew what the lesson was.
It was friendship.
Appreciating Life’s Beauty & Moments
Through you, I learned what makes a good friend and how to be one. Our precious and beautiful friendship had enriched my life and for that, I am immensely grateful to you.
Over the next few weeks, this gratitude took root and grew. Alongside grief, I experienced a renewed sense of appreciation for events, objects, and people in life.
Saudadeis a Portuguese word that describes a longing for something that has been loved and lost, yet it also captures a sense of joy for having been loved and lost. This “joyful sadness” described my feelings perfectly.
Allow saudade to sit and experiencing it fully within me has given me insights into life.
Life’s meaning is not something to be found; it is created moment by moment in our everyday lives, and gratitude fuels it best.
Gratitude as a Way of Life
Gratitude gifted me with fresh eyes to perceive the beauty and qualities in objects, people, or moments. It helps me to slow down, be present, and be thankful for the good and bad that enter my life.
Gratitude makes the most routine, mundane, or dreadful tasks meaningful. While waiting patiently for my morning coffee, I silently expressed thanks for all the elements that made it possible for me to enjoy my drink. Not taking things for granted makes my life more vivid, rich, and meaningful. My coffee tastes much better now.
Perhaps if we consider gratitude as a way of life more than just a feeling or mental state, our lives will have more bliss, peace, and meaning.
In gratitude, I see you. In gratitude, I see our interconnectedness. In gratitude, I see the Dharma.
Wise Steps:
The love and connection with our departed loved ones transcend physical existence and transform into a spiritual relationship. We can dedicate merits and well-wishes to benefit them in their next life which helps us find solace in grief.
Our brains are masters in creating illusions which obstruct our perception of reality’s transient and ever-evolving nature. By embracing self-awareness and applying the teachings of the Dharma, we can reduce regret and cultivate greater happiness.
Gratitude is a powerful tool for healing. It can help us find a renewed sense of purpose and appreciation for life even during the toughest times.
TLDR: We have all said goodbyes at some point in our lives. Does it always have to be a sad occasion? How can we better deal with goodbyes? Wilson reflects on his departure from loved ones and friends.
Departure (4 Oct, 08:00am)
Knowing that I only had one month left, it felt like there were so many people to meet and so many things to do. The outpouring of love and kindness from the people in my life gave me an indication of the quality of relationships that I have forged in my time here.
However, I could not help but wonder about the intentions behind these gestures.
I felt a tinge of guilt for thinking that all these were more for them than for me, that these helped them to make peace with my eventual departure.
I struggled with myself, “My friends and family seemed to assume that they have a right to ask for whatever time I have remaining. Yet, it also feels wrong to tell people that I want more time for myself and to reject their kindness. Also, how can I make assumptions about their intentions? That reflects more about how I view the loved ones in my life.”
As the end drew near, I thought I would feel sad, nervous or even excited. Interestingly, it just felt like the end of every other day that I have lived so far. I guess maybe I have prepared enough and that the end just feels like it would come sooner or later anyway.
Or maybe it is because I’m still on the way to the other side and that it will all start to sink in once I arrive.
At this point, I want to take the chance to thank the people in my life for loving me, helping me to learn and grow and eventually, letting me go with your heartfelt well-wishes. I think that is one of the greatest gifts I have received. Thank you all.
~The End~
Oh, you are still here? After reading the previous few paragraphs, you may be thinking, “This Wilson has gone crazy already. Say until like he’s dying like that.”
Or maybe you are texting me now to scold me for scaring you. Hehe, please forgive me for deciding on such a dramatic and possibly triggering way to start the article. 😅
To set the record straight, I left Singapore for Japan to study and do research for the next 1.5 years. I do hope that the opening captured how I felt about the similarities between going overseas for a long period and dying.
However, if you are still cross with me (and understandably so 😛), I hope the rest of the article explains well the thought process of this weirdo here.
There are many ways in which we may leave this world. It could be sudden, leaving you shocked like a deer in headlights. Or you would have an idea of the end drawing near, giving you some time to make preparations.
I was reminded of a quote by Paul Kalanithi in his book, “When Breath Becomes Air”, which described his journey of facing his mortality as a surgeon himself: “I began to realise that coming in such close contact with my own mortality had changed both nothing and everything. Before my cancer was diagnosed, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn’t know when. After the diagnosis, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn’t know when. But now I know knew it acutely.”
I feel blessed to be given the chance to say my goodbyes and to feel the love and care of my loved ones. It made me think about how I would ideally like to leave this world and how I could live my life so that when my time is up, it would reduce the suffering for myself and the people around me.
Celebrating Departures
While I mentioned the similarities between going overseas and dying, I noticed a major difference.
When it comes to going overseas, it is usually celebrated. However, when it comes to dying, it is mostly grieved. You may retort, “Of course lah! Dying is a permanent goodbye leh. You go overseas we can still visit each other what.”
Also, people also tend to celebrate deaths if the deceased had lived till a “ripe” old age. Even the choice of words betrays our value judgments on the importance of living a long life.
To me, this often-quoted phrase captures my attitude succinctly: “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” I think it may be also because I believe that I would not be able to live a long life due to my extreme levels of carelessness.
With all these said, I am not proposing that we ignore the fact that others may be grieving over departures in their lives and therefore, trivialise the suffering that they are experiencing.
It is perfectly normal to experience sadness and grief as a response to loss in our lives, be it due to death or otherwise. However, we can also choose to respond to those by celebrating the life of the deceased.
For me, I had the idea that at my funeral, guests would be invited to note down a favourite memory that they shared with me. They can then probably laugh together at the silly things that happened in my life, including falling into the swan lake at the Singapore Botanic Gardens and getting into a tussle with monkeys at the Penang Botanic Gardens.
Preparing for Departures
How should we then prepare for departures, be it our own or others’, going overseas or dying? Instead of considering the plethora of things that one can prepare to make the departure easier, I think it would be good to focus on something manageable that we can do regularly.
The Buddha encouraged his disciples to use separation and death as part of 5 themes to reflect upon to support them in their spiritual practice.
“Bhikkhus, there are these five themes that should often be reflected upon
… by a householder or one gone forth.
1. ‘I am subject to old age; I am not exempt from old age.’
2. ‘I am subject to illness; I am not exempt from illness.’
3. ‘I am subject to death; I am not exempt from death.’
4. ‘I must be parted and separated from everyone and everything dear and agreeable to me.’
5. ‘I am the owner of my kamma, the heir of my kamma; I have kamma as my origin, kamma as my relative, kamma as my resort; I will be the heir of whatever kamma, good or bad, that I do.’”
Initially, you may find it weird or even uncomfortable when conducting this set of reflections and that is perfectly normal since we do not usually consider our mortality as we go about our everyday lives. However, I do hope this practice can support you in living a good life, so that when the time comes to leave, for whatever reasons and in whatever ways, you are ready for it.
Summary
We often go through life without thinking about departures of different natures, possibly even avoiding the idea of departures.
The grief that we associate with departures arises easily in our minds and while that is perfectly natural, we can approach departures in a different light.
We can choose to celebrate the moments we shared with the person who is leaving while taking the chance to reflect upon separation and death to support us in our spiritual practice.
Wise Steps:
Reminding ourselves of the 5 themes that Buddha taught us help us not to take life for granted
Grief is perfectly natural; what matters is our response to it. finding the right community to support you through it is most crucial!
TLDR: Once you fall in love with suffering, you won’t have to suffer anymore. Here is why and how to go about doing it.
What? Have I read the title wrongly? Fall in love with my suffering? Why would I ever want to do that? Well, to begin with, we have misjudged and misunderstood suffering.
Recently, I was invited by the Singapore Buddhist Mission to speak on How Buddhism has transformed my life? Throughout the 45 mins, I noticed most of what I talked about was how I overcame my sufferings.
Sufferings come in many forms.
“Lucky” for me, I’ve experienced many from the grief of losing my father, the guilt of not seeing my father for a year before he passed away due to my medical condition, go the physical and mental pain of my cancer treatments, I could go on and on, but that would make this article too depressing. So, why don’t I turn my sufferings around?
Suffering does not discriminate
If you take a closer look, suffering is an inevitability in life. I have not heard of anyone who has not suffered, whether it is physical or mental, we all suffer. It is bound to happen, and I’ve not heard of anyone immune to it as well.
All existence is Dukkha. According to the first noble truth in Buddhism, there is dukkha, often translated as suffering (though a sense of dissatisfaction is a closer meaning).
When I first came across the word dukkha, I didn’t pay much attention to it.
I simply thought it’s true, and it makes sense, but I didn’t heed the advice as a warning. I mean, I have had my fair share of sufferings, and I dealt with them promptly. But I neglected to pay attention to the second noble truth, which said that our constant wanting and resisting causes suffering.
What I failed to understand is my resistance to suffering when I’ve been warned. Can accepting the fact that bad things do happen in life reduce suffering? Apparently, it does.
It’s ok to not be ok.
Acceptance does not mean you are ok with it. But by reacting against the pain—resisting or rejecting it—we create unnecessary suffering. It doesn’t mean that you’ve chosen or agreed with what has happened to you.
It doesn’t mean you like panic attacks, the side effects of cancer treatments, or suffering an injustice that has happened to you or someone else.
Rather, you’re choosing to allow it to be there when you can’t change it at that moment. To make space for it. To give yourself the patience to understand what’s going on, feel what you feel, or have experienced what you’ve experienced without creating unproductive anger or anxiety.
The pain might still be there, but some of the “by-products” of the suffering will be alleviated.
Sufferings are to be embraced.
One of my strengths, or I personally like to think of as a strength, is I have the ability to go deep into my experiences and examine what is truly happening to me. My life experiences are like a school; I attend to each experience like a student in the class, waiting to see what is going on and what I can learn from it.
What I have learnt is that I haven’t become stronger after much suffering. I just feel more exhausted and weak, but I also feel more resilient towards suffering.
It’s like if I embrace every suffering, wouldn’t I get better at dealing with the unavoidable? Wouldn’t it make sense to embrace it rather than detest it?
Whenever I face any bad situation or problem that happens to me willingly and enthusiastically, it eases me into making better decisions. I feel less stressed out in dealing with it.
Suffering can be a valuable teaching.
Most of the time, we misinterpret suffering, thinking it comes from the world or the people around us. But it’s impossible for the world to cause you suffering if you don’t allow it. Also, suffering is a good thing, a kind of nourishment.
In order to be happy, you have to first find the meaning of happiness, and suffering becomes a catalyst for you to define it. It’s like using the dictionary – in order to understand happiness; you need to read up the definition of the word.
You can treat suffering as nourishment, a kind of tonic for your life that activates your willpower and allows you to discover your own strength and clarify your doubts.
For instance, the side effects I suffered from cancer treatment reminded me to stop procrastinating and postponing the things I really wanted to do. It also helped me focus on the present and discover the meaning of life.
Pain is certain, but suffering is optional.
External forces have always caused us much suffering. Although they can trigger our negative emotions, we forget that peace in the heart is also there. Our lack of awareness might be the cause of many of our sufferings, but it’s not like we can’t do anything about it.
We might not be able to control what has happened to us, but we can choose how we respond to it. So, my point here is that no matter how horrible a situation may seem, we can still stay focused in the present moment.
Being in the present moment helps us to become aware of our peaceful mental state within. We shouldn’t let bad situations rattle us into a corner and face defeat, thinking there is no way out of it.
A bad situation could be an opportunity for something good.
Sometimes, things aren’t as bad as we think they are. It just so happens that we’re conditioned by society to get what we want, and if we don’t get it, we automatically feel disheartened or disappointed.
Bad things in life can also be a stepping stone towards good things that may happen in the future.
I remember desperately wanting to secure a job which I was rejected. But that allowed me to apply and secure another job opportunity that was far greater and better than what I had expected.
Suffering doesn’t belong to anyone.
Suffering is only as bad as you want it to be. If I remove “me” from my problem, it will just be a problem and not “my problem.” Suffering no longer becomes personal; the problem is as it is.
There are no good or bad experiences. An experience is an experience if you see it for what it really is. It only becomes good or bad when we judge it.
If I know something will be bad for me, it will be bad for me. I choose to suffer; then I suffer. It all depends on how we look at things.
When we stop owning our sufferings with our egos, our sufferings will end. In Buddhism, phenomena are characterised by impermanence, no-self and dissatisfaction (dukkha). Suffering as taught by the Buddha, only occurs when there is an “I” (Self-identity), “Me” (Self-ownership), and “Mine” (feeling of a Self) due to our erroneous belief.
No-Self, or anatta is the hardest to comprehend because it is a deep-seated belief that we own our thoughts, feelings and body when in fact we are more a slave than a master to these impermanent phenomena.
We tend to attach ourselves to problems due to our egos. As a result, we make suffering a problem, my problem.
Every suffering will be worth it.
Suffering can be valuable if we can understand the underlying truth that suffering is the gateway to enlightenment. Although it does not mean we pursue suffering, it can help open the door to awakening if we become aware of it.
Pigs can eat rotten food and still find it delicious. Lotus cannot grow without the mud, and enlightenment cannot be attained without becoming aware of the causes of suffering.
Only when we are aware, can we change suffering.
Wise steps:
By accepting that sufferings are inevitable and can’t be avoided, we can learn to embrace them as a catalyst for happiness.
Treat sufferings for what they are; they don’t belong to you or anyone.
Not every suffering is bad; we can choose to look at it differently and turn it into an opportunity leading to something better.
Sufferings are worth having only if they lead us to our own awakening.
