Picture this:
You’re eight years old. You’re riding a bike. A little too fast, I will add. You’re racing down a hill, wind in your hair, and you feel alive. The most alive your little eight-year old self could possibly feel. It’s an addicting feeling— this high. So, you keep pedaling. Push the limits to feel even more elated, hyper-aware of this vivacity. You’re at peak speed at this point, but as you rotate your handlebars slightly to the right to turn with the road, you slip on sand, lose control of the bike, and come crashing down on the pavement.
In just seconds, you go from feeling on top of the world to screaming bloody murder. You cut open your knees, your shins, and your hands. Luckily, you had your helmet on, so your head was protected. The rest of your exposed skin? Not so much.
As you sit on the ground, tears flowing from your eyes, your mind is fixated on how much pain you’re in. Your body hurts so badly, and all you want is for someone to take it all away. To give you a bandaid, a hug, wrap your hands in gauze, or craft a liquid potion that makes it impossible for your body to feel physical pain. Any of the above will do in this current moment.
I was young the first time I questioned what pain was. It didn’t make sense to me. How could something that was no longer making contact with my body cause me to suffer? How could I fall, walk into a table, or hit my head on a wall, and after the collision, still feel an aching sensation?
I know, there are anatomical explanations to my questions. Pain lingers, and any nurse or medical professional could walk you through why and how.
But, that’s not what I wanted to know. I wanted to know how it can be so invisible to my eye yet so painstakingly abundant in my body. You can’t hold pain. You can’t touch pain. You can see the cause of pain and the effects of pain, but you can’t see pain itself. It’s an abstract concept that takes physical (and mental) form.
The first time I realized that pain was more than physical, I was fascinated by it. It offered me a glimpse into consciousness, and at a young age, I was really perplexed that my mind could ponder pain in a way that hadn’t yet been explained to me. I was confused yet intrigued by this new way of thinking, and I remember wondering if other people thought the same way. I didn’t care if pain was what they were contemplating. I cared whether or not they realized that they had the power to look at concepts from different angles.
I’ve always been interested in questions that have no answers. I want to dig deep, and then deeper, and then deeper than that. To get to the root, crack that in half, and then keep going. So, the first time I was consciously aware of the pain I felt in my body, my whole world opened up.
Every time I had gotten hurt before that moment of consciousness, I was absorbed by any pain I felt. It took up all my mental capacity, and I was dragged into its wrath. I soon realized that a lot of life’s happenstances controlled me in the same way. When I was upset, it absorbed me. When I was happy, it absorbed me. When I was scared, it absorbed me.
The best way I can describe how the lack of consciousness works is by equating it to racing against the clock to complete those multiplication quizzes you had to do in fifth or sixth grade. The teacher would set a timer for sixty seconds, and you tried to answer as many multiplication equations as possible. As soon as the teacher said, “ready, set, go,” you were locked into that sheet of paper. You had no peripheral vision. You had no idea that the light above you was flickering. You were completely zoned in, and there were no other thoughts in your mind other than “What’s 8x6?”
If someone were to walk up behind you and tap you on the shoulder, you would be startled and really caught off guard. Why? Because you were not aware of the moment, only consumed by the task.
Unfortunately, that’s how a lot us operate outside of the classroom and in our everyday lives. We become completely consumed by every single emotion, situation, and event, that we fail to see that we have the power to be present rather than absorbed by the ebb and flow of life. Do some tasks need our unwavering attention? Of course. But, not everything we do needs to take control of us. That’s not healthy or conducive to inner peace and joy.
I think one of the coolest things about being human is that you have the power to think about anything through a new lens. Everyday you’re given the opportunity to be a more educated, open, robust person. No one is going to force you to grow, but the best moments of life can be felt when you do.
I will always be an advocate for people to understand and dive deeper into consciousness. I am who I am because I have cultivated an awareness of my person from an early age onward, and without my ability to contemplate, I would be so close-minded and probably really jaded. But this world of never-ending observation and learning is so revealing and nurturing, and it offers you meaning in a whole new way.
The next time you accidentally hurt yourself, try to stop for a second and observe the pain. Feel it. Notice how demanding it is of your full attention. If you’re able to be aware of the pain while it’s radiating through your body, know that you’re operating at a higher level of consciousness than if you had just let it consume you. And, if you’re ever in a situation or feeling an emotion that’s taking control of you in your entirety, stop for a second, notice the “you” sitting behind all of that “stuff”, and breathe. Pain, emotions, events, all of life’s happenstances are temporary. The only thing that’s constant is finding the part of you who can notice all of it. Find that person as soon as you can, and when you do, never lose sight of her.
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