“We become a bundle of tense muscles defending our existence” Chogyam Trungpa
I would describe myself during most of my early life as a glutton for punishment. If there was a hard way, I would find it. It became something of a badge of honor, my ability to face adversity square in the face and push on. I remember in my early 30’s, I decided I would run my first marathon. Now, there was nothing intrinsically wrong with my desire to take on this challenge and stretch beyond were my current abilities, but because it was so deeply ingrained in me to soldier on, I was unable to accurately listen to the messages my body was sending me. The grueling training regimen I kept myself on meant my body was chronically in a great deal of pain.
To cope, or more accurately, to ignore, I began taking regularly high doses of anti-inflammatory medications so I could continue running. Eventually, the abuse of my body led to horrible stomach pain and bloody diarrhea. Even these symptoms didn’t register as something I should pay attention to. I never even thought to ask myself if it was too much pain. I never considered slowing down or stopping to help my body feel better and allow some comfort. Deny, ignore, and just soldier on. In retrospect, instead of finishing the marathon with a new sense of purpose and pride, I look back on that time in my life with incredible sadness. The vestiges of childhood trauma left me with an acutely high tolerance to pain and harshness. This was the world in which I resided and the life I knew best.
It wasn’t long after the marathon I began to see a massage therapist. I think my heart was in the right place. I began to feel the seeds of longing to feel better and not wanting to live my life in so much pain. On my first visit to see her, true to form, I told her that I would respond best to really deep tissue massage and I wanted her to go in hard and dig deep into the muscle. This fit with my motto, no pain, no gain. I don’t think I could see a path where I could open myself up to anything that felt good without first having to pass through the gates of suffering.
I remember this moment vividly. You know the feeling when someone is about ready to say something, however unwittingly, that will unravel and upend your entire world. She looked at me and with such kindness said that if she goes in too harshly and works too deeply into the muscle, my whole body will begin to tense and tighten up in an effort to protect itself from the onslaught, but if she gently begins to work the fascia around the muscles, going slowly and easily, then the muscles will organically begin to unravel and soften and offer me some relief.
I can tell you that much of my adulthood since has been learning to cultivate this idea in all areas of my life. There is now an invitation to soften when things feel painful or uncomfortable. What I had learned in childhood, and what felt like the harshest path, always involved so much resistance. It felt like pushing a boulder uphill or swimming against the current. But there is a great spiritual truth, one found in 12 step meetings and bumper stickers which goes something like… Pain is necessary, but Suffering is optional.
What I have learned along the way on this journey is that my old ways of seeking the most painful and desolate path was that it led to everything tightening more. I spent so much time protecting against the pain that there was not room for any opening up to what felt sweet and full of goodness. We cannot simultaneously both tighten to protect and open up to receive. But if we can begin to soften just a bit, if we can find the path of gently working the fascia around the muscle, life often gives way to some sort of sweetness, even in the most painful of circumstances.
When we meet the edges around what feels difficult with gentleness and kindness, when we bring to our places of pain and discomfort our loving attention instead of marching out the troops in an all-out assault, then we learn that the hard way is not always the better way. Instead, we learn that even if we find ourselves in places that feel hard, there is always a way to allow gentleness to touch upon our harsh edges. We learn flow and not force. This is the path to softening.
I would describe myself during most of my early life as a glutton for punishment. If there was a hard way, I would find it. It became something of a badge of honor, my ability to face adversity square in the face and push on. I remember in my early 30’s, I decided I would run my first marathon. Now, there was nothing intrinsically wrong with my desire to take on this challenge and stretch beyond were my current abilities, but because it was so deeply ingrained in me to soldier on, I was unable to accurately listen to the messages my body was sending me. The grueling training regimen I kept myself on meant my body was chronically in a great deal of pain.
To cope, or more accurately, to ignore, I began taking regularly high doses of anti-inflammatory medications so I could continue running. Eventually, the abuse of my body led to horrible stomach pain and bloody diarrhea. Even these symptoms didn’t register as something I should pay attention to. I never even thought to ask myself if it was too much pain. I never considered slowing down or stopping to help my body feel better and allow some comfort. Deny, ignore, and just soldier on. In retrospect, instead of finishing the marathon with a new sense of purpose and pride, I look back on that time in my life with incredible sadness. The vestiges of childhood trauma left me with an acutely high tolerance to pain and harshness. This was the world in which I resided and the life I knew best.
It wasn’t long after the marathon I began to see a massage therapist. I think my heart was in the right place. I began to feel the seeds of longing to feel better and not wanting to live my life in so much pain. On my first visit to see her, true to form, I told her that I would respond best to really deep tissue massage and I wanted her to go in hard and dig deep into the muscle. This fit with my motto, no pain, no gain. I don’t think I could see a path where I could open myself up to anything that felt good without first having to pass through the gates of suffering.
I remember this moment vividly. You know the feeling when someone is about ready to say something, however unwittingly, that will unravel and upend your entire world. She looked at me and with such kindness said that if she goes in too harshly and works too deeply into the muscle, my whole body will begin to tense and tighten up in an effort to protect itself from the onslaught, but if she gently begins to work the fascia around the muscles, going slowly and easily, then the muscles will organically begin to unravel and soften and offer me some relief.
I can tell you that much of my adulthood since has been learning to cultivate this idea in all areas of my life. There is now an invitation to soften when things feel painful or uncomfortable. What I had learned in childhood, and what felt like the harshest path, always involved so much resistance. It felt like pushing a boulder uphill or swimming against the current. But there is a great spiritual truth, one found in 12 step meetings and bumper stickers which goes something like… Pain is necessary, but Suffering is optional.
What I have learned along the way on this journey is that my old ways of seeking the most painful and desolate path was that it led to everything tightening more. I spent so much time protecting against the pain that there was not room for any opening up to what felt sweet and full of goodness. We cannot simultaneously both tighten to protect and open up to receive. But if we can begin to soften just a bit, if we can find the path of gently working the fascia around the muscle, life often gives way to some sort of sweetness, even in the most painful of circumstances.
When we meet the edges around what feels difficult with gentleness and kindness, when we bring to our places of pain and discomfort our loving attention instead of marching out the troops in an all-out assault, then we learn that the hard way is not always the better way. Instead, we learn that even if we find ourselves in places that feel hard, there is always a way to allow gentleness to touch upon our harsh edges. We learn flow and not force. This is the path to softening.