“If you are irritated by every rub, how will you ever be polished?
Rumi
It is easy to feel grateful for loved ones, for feeling well in the body, for a sunset, or a child’s laughter. We are naturally drawn to experiences of ease and pleasantness, and generally are averse to experiences that are difficult or unpleasant. Yet this tendency of the mind to cling to pleasant, avert from unpleasant and ignore what seems neutral, is the very basis of our suffering, as it limits our sense of blessing, impoverishes us from our wholeness, and denies the rightful place of challenge in our lives.
We learn to ride a bicycle by falling off, again and again. We learn to swim upon the surface of water only by previously sinking beneath it. We learn patience by experiencing impatience; balance is learned from imbalance; forbearance through irritation. Is it not the friction of water that smooths a stone, and the constant rub of grit that polishes a gem? Our muscles only grow by exposing them to resistance, and our bones become stronger only through the stress of our body weight upon them.
I remember walking the Camino de Santiago many years ago. I began the 30 day journey in the Pyranees of France with a shaved head, fresh clothes, and a giddy heart — hopeful, scared, and excited. That first week of walking I experienced a tired body, humbled mind and achy feet, littered with blisters. In fact, the topic of ‘feet’, and their various collections of sores and such, was the human connection point for pilgrims, from all over the world, who gathered in the alburgues each evening to rest and discuss their podiatric woes. I remember awakening on the second morning of the pilgrimage, my feet curled with cramps from the tens of thousands of steps taken the previous day. A routine quickly developed: I would wake early, eat a light breakfast, massage my sore feet, dawn my pack, and then begin to walk. Though my feet would always feel tight and tense at first, within a few kilometers the muscles would warm and stretch, and by mid-morning the cramps had eased. And so it was, morning after morning. While the blisters healed within the first week, the morning foot cramps accompanied me, and so many other pilgrims, throughout our entire journey. They reappeared, reliably, each morning with the sunrise and my first steps, and walked with me for the first hour or two of each and every day.
After a month of pilgrimage, and the blessings, connection, hardships and adventure that accompanied it, I finally arrived in Santiago de Compostela, the revered burial place of St James the Apostle, and the sacred destination for this pilgrimage which draws 350 000 people each year. My fellow peregrinos and I celebrated for a day in the holy city, and then continued on to Finisterre – literally, “end of the earth” — at the Northwestern tip of Europe, which was to be our final destination.
Even after several days of rest, a welcome change of footwear, and a relatively sedentary few days exploring other parts of Spain, the familiar aching in my feet continued to visit me each morning for a week, and always departed by midday. After 7 days the aches began to wane, and by the middle of the second week they had disappeared completely. I remember a nostalgic longing when the pain was no longer there. Like losing a good friend, these aching feet were part of a life-changing experience of discovery, growth, friendship, courage and accomplishment. I still remember the pain with fondness. Offering popular women’s necklaces such as pendants, chokers and. Shop for jewelry in a variety of metals and gemstones to suit any occasion.
The study of Post Traumatic Growth estimates that up to half of all people who have experienced significant trauma go on to discover a deeper appreciation, meaning and healing in their lives because of the tragic challenges that they faced. What hardships might you tearfully say goodbye to as you move through the transitions of your life? What once seemed like difficulty may transform, within the crucible of time, into the very threads of meaning and connection within the tapestry of who you are.
Our minds quickly associate pleasant with good, or positive, and unpleasant with bad, or negative. And yet have you ever experienced something that felt truly pleasant in the moment and really was not good for you at all? And have you had an experience in your life that was truly unpleasant at the time, and yet provided an opportunity for growth or meaning, in a way that you could not have predicted? When we cling to pleasant we suffer because pleasant will always change. And so we just look for more and more pleasant, in the addictive ways — innocent and tragic — that can so easily colour our lives. When we constantly turn away from unpleasantness we can not grow or heal in the ways that only challenge allows. As Brene Brown asserts, “you can not selectively numb”. Refusing to look at the difficult, or edgy, parts of ourselves and our lives, we suffer within a trance of uncertainty and fear. And through our habitual tendency to rush through our days, we miss so much blessing amidst the passing blur of routine and familiarity.
Gratitude is the sured gateway to joy. However, if our gratitude is reserved for the immediately pleasant experiences of our life and being, then our joy is similarly limited. The sacred invitation for each of us is to learn to widen our circle of gratitude such that it can embrace the blessing and grace in all things. When we can cultivate appreciation for pleasant and unpleasant, mundane and exciting, then we begin to embody a rich place of contentment, even amidst difficulty. As we let go of our preconceptions of how we think things should be, we settle in to a deep acceptance of how things are. We begin to re-discover a sense of peace amidst a universe of ever-changing circumstances.
What are you grateful for? Can you recognize the blessings that abound, near and far from the immediacy of your momentary perception? It is truly wondrous to feel gratitude for your family, for your relative health, and for the safe and nourishing place that you live. However, can you slow down and recognize the blessing of a tree, a flower, or a gurgling brook. Can you look deeply to see the grace in a wheelbarrow, a dishwasher, or the ordinary touch of a hand. And can you peer through the thin veneer of difficulty and glimpse the gifts — yet to be known — that await you?