Distinction between pain and suffering

Dukkha is different from pain. Buddhist thought makes a distinction between pain and suffering. Pain is part of our human experience. For example, getting sick is painful, as is grief at the loss of a loved one; this is natural and appropriate. However, we then tend to generate a whole extra layer of suffering, through our difficulty in accepting how things are. When we resist the natural flow of life we create suffering, stress, and struggle. When we assume ownership and permanence in a world that is constantly changing, we become burdened.

To have a conscious relationship to suffering is different than having an unconscious one. We will all experience pain, simply due to our incarnation into form. It is part of being human. We experience bodily pains, ill health, fatigue, hunger, thirst, and as we get older we will feel the pains of aging. That’s just the way it is. Freedom from dukkha doesn’t mean eternal youth, or that we are never going to have a headache, never going to feel irritation, or loss, or get betrayed and hurt by others. Freedom from dukkha is not abdication from the human race, but a deeper acceptance of how we are, an acceptance that brings both equanimity, and also a clearer response.

Awakening quickens through wise contemplation of suffering. Instead of blindly reacting to the experience of dukkha, shifting around it or blaming someone else for it, we apprehend it directly, and more quickly. A conditioning factor for this process is what the Buddha called nibbida, which means “disenchantment.” We finally come to a place in ourselves when we know another experience isn’t going to alleviate our basic sense of discontent—the next holiday, the next acquisition, or the next exciting distraction. In our contemporary society, when we feel disenchanted it is seen as a problem. We are encouraged to go shopping, take medication, or find some other escape. We think, “If I sit on the beach today I’ll be much happier than staying here.” So we go to the beach. We’re happy for a few minutes and then think, “If I just had a nice coffee, I’d feel better.” Or we think, “It’s too hot here. If I go up into the mountains where it’s cooler, I’d be happy.” This seeking drives us on and on. It’s a good sign when we begin to be suspicious of endless pursuit; it means we’re not buying into it so much. Periods of retreat bring us into direct confrontation with what we’ve been trying desperately to avoid—this basic feeling of dissatisfaction…

From Listening to the Heart: A Contemplative Journey to Engaged Buddhism by Kittisaro and Thanissara