This post was originally intended to be titled "What's the drug of your choice?",but well,it did not seem apt enough to describe the sentiment I'm about to express.
All of us,every extraordinary mortal consciously or unconsciously picks a cardinal trait of pleasure to center their life around.The world was designed for diversity,so there are inevitable individual differences in what we choose to devote ourselves to,but the fact that we all possess this central tendency itself in a sign of unity.Oh,the irony.This is the very cardinal trait we commonly term "purpose" and finding it is why we survive.
We all choose our very own versions of a drug,an addiction to thrive on,to give us that adrenal rush.Add that zing to life,that kick that makes everyday exceptional.
But there's a valiant villain called pain,he who steals patience and hope from the recess of our strengths when we're not looking,a thief in the darkness,a lucid nightmare beyond control due to the state of sleep,but we always feel him.We sympathize with the bad guy.
Pain and pleasure,pleasure and pain,are they not the same? Don't get me wrong,I don't want to start sounding negative or take this on to a cynical footing,but claims at lives that are absolutely charmed and immune to disturbances are false.
Here's the part where it all starts to make sense in a story,when just as you're thinking "Hey,this is not interesting enough,where's the downside,where are the problems,the flaws?",the pain that spares nobody in its largess.We all talk of the purpose of life,but what about the purpose of pain?
A girl I know once said "There is pain in everything we do" and it's true.Sometimes so much so,life stops making sense because pain and pleasure blend to the extent where they seem inseparable.
It's in the big blows that leave us feeling so blue and bruised,like the winter's wind,that we're hurting for longer than we can tolerate.It's in that ever persistent dull stab in your heart and even when you try hard to make it go away,it's hiding in that hole you din't know exists and casually ignoring until it decides to stop playing peek-a-boo and become a surface wound.There is pain even in happiness,hiding,prying,waiting to strike.
Pain is when you hear or see something and you can almost feel your heart physically aching,it's the feeling of drowning without water,it's the stone that weighs you down beyond words of wisdom and hope.Pain is when feelings fail to transform into words and take shelter in the language of tears.
He is in that surreal world you see through foggy eyes,blurred boundaries,loss of rationale.
He dwells in the death of your dreams,he looked upon your shoulder when you first understood death the morning your labrador died,he ticked with the clock in silence when your family fought the first time when you were four.He lingers in every failed effort,in the wild beating of the heart,fueling the fear of the unknown,wallowing in unrequited love,he swims in every puddle of sorrow that rolls down your cheeks,he smells the scent of nostalgia,he occupies farewells and creeps even into the happiest memories.Omnipresent,omnipotent.
Pain is inevitable.
There's no escaping him.
Although accepting him seems impossible,it's the solution.The same girl who pointed out the omnipresence of pain,added,"There is pain in everything we do,changing that into smiles is what you're all about".
She also said "If there in no love,there is no pain,If there is no pain,there is no love,If you have neither,you are not human" think about it,because without some degree pain,the purpose of life would be less valued.There is no perfection,no perfect creation,no invention of man or any creator without flaws.Even the perfect machine has friction that makes it real.Pain makes pleasure possible,he makes pleasure real and complete.In every ounce of pain,there is also the same amount of pleasure and that is why they replace each other and sometimes,even,coexist.
Another blogger,
In not so many words, said to me "Pain is like fabric,the stronger it is,the better" and I try to create something out of the hole inside me,I realise I cannot fill it in,I can only try turning it into something that can be beautiful.Pain will exploit,just as pleasure will,they're the couple that fuels all purpose and creation.
Pain is only so much more captivating because pleasure almost always seems beautiful,we seldom question the purpose of pleasure,she seems to be a natural,pain appears ugly but in his depth there is a beauty that only sadness can convey and it is taxing to touch the essence of the sad kind of happy or the happy kind of sad.Pain is a part of us,as much as all the atomies that make a human being,he isn't an external force,he's an effect,a reaction,a fight that makes us who we are.Pain is within all of us,he is born out of our hearts,made out of us,just as we create pleasure and therein lies the source of all creation.It's the immune system of the mind fighting away oblivion with the help of the drug of pleasure.Hence,he weakens,suppresses but in the long term,strengthens.In the larger scheme of things,it's only pain we turn into wisdom.
Many claim that it's the ability to reason that makes us human,and it is this ability to realise the states of feeling and being are as interchangeable as the states of energy.To know that pain can be converted to pleasure,be changed and yet accept that it will always exist in some form and cannot ever be completely destroyed.
And that's the reasoning behind unreasonable pain.Someday it'll make even better sense to me,the purpose of pain.
Maybe there is none,it's just in his nature,pain is like poetry.
