Enduring Without Drowning.

When we’re in pain, we often try to separate the sensation from the story.

The sensation says: This is what’s here right now. The story says: It will be like this forever. The first is grounded in the present. The second is a leap into despair.

But is it real? And what does it mean? Well, Ram Dass said,

"You can do it like it’s a great weight on you, or you can do it like it’s part of the dance."

This doesn’t mean pretending pain is pleasant. Instead, it means recognizing that we still get to choose how we meet it. It’s not separation. It’s clarification.

Some days that choice is big. Going for a walk, calling a friend, softening into stillness.

Other days, it’s small,. Taking one breath without judgment, noticing the way light falls across the floor…

When pain feels endless, it helps to remember that nothing truly is. Even the most stubborn seasons shift. The wind changes direction. The body surprises you. The heart finds new rhythms.

I think of the ocean. Some days the waves pound relentlessly, and yet the tide is always moving, always changing. The water that feels overwhelming now is never the same water twice.

If we can hold on to even a small thread of faith—that this too is moving, that the tide is turning—then we can endure the moment without drowning in it.

And maybe, one day, we can look back and see how even this uninvited guest of pain shaped us into someone softer, someone stronger, someone more deeply alive. It was one and the same.