I Love Pain

September 28th, 2017

Pain is good. Without it we'd hurt ourselves horrifically all the time. You wouldn't notice getting your hand burnt from that hot stove, or ever learn that perhaps you should be more careful when running around junk piles barefoot where there are nails in bounds of abundance. Not only pain, but trials, hard times, and difficulties are also good. They teach us. They shape us. They make us who we are. Why are you so happy after completing a long footrace, or finishing a hard day of work, or turning in an almost late paper assignment? Because hardship made it valuable, and turned it into a thing worth striving for.

Very few people like winning just for the sake of winning. I doubt Kasparov would take much joy in beating a ten-year-old in a game of chess. No, we want it difficult, close. We want to fight a worthy opponent, one who is strong, tough, and formidable. We want it to be really close, a tough battle, one in which we barely obtain victory. This is what makes it fun. If you've ever been to a basketball game, or any sporting event really, when is the crowd more involved in the game, more on the edge of their seats, hoping against hope their team will make it? Near the end, when the clock is ticking down and it's still unclear who'll be victorious. If it weren't difficult to win, there'd be no joy in watching.

One of my favorite Herodotus quotes is, "Soft places tend to produce soft men." How true. Show me a man who's had everything he's ever wanted from birth, who's never worked a day in his life and has never known pain, and I will show you a boy with a doctorate in whineology who possesses not an ounce of mental or physical strength. Fortitude? He doesn't know what that means. We see this over and over again throughout history: a leader comes to power, unites a people, forges a kingdom through toil, sweat and tears, and carves out a slice of peace for his realm. Then he dies, leaving all to his heir, the firstborn son. This guy never lifted a finger his whole life, and consequently he manages to throw away everything his father ever worked for in the blink of an eye. If there's anything left over by the time his son takes the throne, rest assured that'll be taken care of post haste. This is why poor farmboys fight courageously, save the day, rescue the maiden, and ride of into the fair moonlight.

Why should you eat plain, bland oatmeal everyday for breakfast and forgo deserts throughout the week? So that when you do eat an awesome meal, or a wonderful muffin, you appreciate it all the more. The sharp contrast between what you had before and what you have now make sit all that much better. Think of it like eating cheesecake. A slice of it is the most wonderful thing ever to grace your tongue on a cool summer evening. Now eat a second slice. And a third. Now a fourth. Taste just as good? Probably not. What you need to do is wait a couple hours between slices, maybe a day, and be sure to eat regular ole food. Then, when you come back to the cheesecake, it is fabulous again. Likewise, the bad times make the good times better.

Now, I want you to think about your friends for a second. Think about your closest ones, the ones you can tell anything and everything to, who are always there for you, and who you'd trust to the end. I'd be willing to bet yall didn't just bump into each other, go to each other's houses a couple times, watch a few movies, and then wake up one day with a friendship stronger than the chains that bind Prometheus to his fate. More likely than not yall became just plain ole friends at first, then had something go horribly wrong on a camping trip, or got lost in downtown Bucksnort, or had some other unplanned for hardship befall you. This trial forced you into a situation you'd never been in before, and you had to persevere to get through it together. At the end, when it was all said and done, you did it. And what's more, you found you now have a friend. Some of the best stories I've heard happened when something went wrong and you and those with you just had to deal with it. I mean, who can say they got lost in the desert, subsisted on a dozen boiled eggs and three grapefruit for the first day, slept overnight, freezing, around a tiny fire, then found a hermit out there randomly in the wilderness who guided you back to civilization? These types of stories can only come from turmoil, pain, and hardship. They may not be that fun while they're happening, but by golly aren't they your favorite stories to tell for decades to come! Without hardship, we'd have none of this. But we do. We all have had troubles, sorrows, heartbreak. We all have stories to tell. What's yours?