“The wound is the place where the light enters you.” – Rumi
The Blank Page and Life’s Parallels
Before I sat down to write this blog, words were rushing through my mind like a stream. But the moment I faced the white screen, everything went silent.
How strange, right? Isn’t that how life often plays out too? We plan, dream, and desire deeply—but what we want doesn’t always unfold the way we imagined. Sometimes, it doesn’t happen at all.
Whether it’s missing a dream college, losing a relationship we believed in, or even something as small as not catching a movie we were excited for, there’s a familiar sting. That sting often comes from one place—wanting.
The Root of Suffering
As Buddha taught us centuries ago, desire—or “wanting”—is the root of suffering. But before diving deeper, let’s take a moment to distinguish two words we often use interchangeably: pain and suffering. Are they truly the same?
A few months ago, I sprained my ankle during an evening walk. The pain was so intense, it radiated from my foot all the way to my crown. For a few seconds, I couldn’t move. Eventually, after proper rest, I healed completely.
Contrast that with a deeper wound—almost a year ago, I lost my grandmother, someone incredibly close to my heart. Even now, when I think of her, my chest tightens and my eyes well up. The pain isn’t physical, but it’s real nonetheless.
So what’s the difference? Pain is physical and immediate. Suffering is mental and lingering. One hits the body; the other takes root in the mind.
Why We Need Pain
Now, let’s ask—why do we even need pain?
Surprisingly, pain protects us. Without that sharp reminder in my ankle, I might’ve continued wearing heels and caused serious, long-term damage. Instead, those shoes now sit untouched. The memory of that pain guards me more than any caution sign ever could.
In the same way, emotional pain—though harder to understand—can be protective too.
Take heartbreak, for instance. It feels like your chest is collapsing, like your heart forgot how to function. And yet, it’s often that very heartbreak that frees us from unhealthy dynamics, from situations that no longer serve us, or from trying to be enough for someone who couldn’t see our worth.
Suffering is the Story We Tell Ourselves
Here’s where it gets more complex. Pain may be unavoidable, but suffering is often a choice. Not in a dismissive way, but in the sense that it’s built on the stories we replay.
We suffer when we say, “It shouldn’t have happened this way,” or “Maybe if I had just…” That resistance—to reality, to imperfection, to change—is what fuels suffering.
Since moving to the U.S., I’ve had more time than ever before to reflect. And in that silence, I’ve learned this: healing isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It arrives quietly—in your morning coffee, in choosing yourself, in deciding to keep going.
Growth Begins in the Space Pain Leaves Behind
Often, we confuse loneliness with emptiness. But sometimes, that quiet space life gives us is the exact space we need to grow.
Yes, I still long for meaningful connection, for loyalty, for love. That desire hasn’t disappeared. However, I’ve started pouring that love into myself first. I’m learning to become someone I’d want to come home to.
So if you’re standing in front of a blank page—whether it’s a new chapter in life, a career change, or the silence after a heartbreak—remember this: it’s not the end. It’s the pause before the next beautiful sentence begins.
