# There Is No Such Thing As Suffering People often speak of suffering as if it were a thing—a substance, an entity, something that exists independently in the world, waiting to be encountered. We say "I am suffering," "He is drowning in suffering," "Suffering has befallen us," as though it were a presence, a force, almost a being unto itself. But this, I think, is a fundamental mistake in how we understand our own experience. Consider: when you say you are suffering, what exactly are you describing? Is there something called "suffering" that you can point to, examine, hold up to the light? Or are you describing a quality of your experience—the way a particular moment feels, the texture of your consciousness at a given instant? Suffering, I would argue, is not a thing. It is a *condition*, a *relation*, a particular way that consciousness encounters itself and the world. It is what happens when desire meets resistance, when expectation collides with reality, when the mind refuses to accept what is actually present. But the moment you try to isolate it, to make it into a noun, a substance, it dissolves. It reveals itself as nothing but a process, a happening, an event within the larger flow of experience. This is not to say that pain is not real. The ache in your body is real. The heaviness in your heart is real. The sense of loss, the weight of memory, the sting of failure—these are all undeniably real. But they become "suffering" only when the mind grasps them, clings to them, refuses to let them pass. They become suffering when we make a story out of them, when we say "This should not be happening," "I do not deserve this," "Why me?" The Buddha understood this. He did not speak of suffering as a thing but as a condition arising from a particular relationship between mind and experience. The word *dukkha*—often translated carelessly as "suffering"—is better understood as unsatisfactoriness, as the inevitable friction that occurs when a mind seeking permanence encounters a world of constant change. It is not the world's fault. It is not your fault. It is simply the nature of the situation when consciousness tries to hold on to something that cannot be held. So when you feel what you call suffering, pause. Look at it directly, without the habit of naming it. What you will find is not a thing but a *movement*—the movement of resistance, of clinging, of the self trying to protect itself against what it fears or refuses to accept. And this movement, unlike a thing, can transform the moment you truly see it. There is pain. There is loss. There is grief. But suffering itself—suffering as a thing, as a substance, as something that exists independent of how we relate to our experience—this does not exist at all. It is a phantom created by the mind's own refusal to be present with what is. And perhaps the most liberating insight of all is this: a phantom cannot truly harm you. It can only haunt you as long as you believe in its reality.

I have heard it all my life—the world is suffering. Every philosophy that exists begins with the doctrine of suffering, and the chief purpose of each philosophy is to determine the means by which man might find deliverance from that suffering. We believe what we have heard without the slightest doubt in our minds. Not once have we sat in stillness and clarity to examine, nor have we even attempted to examine, whether what we have heard is true or false. This belief that has taken root so deeply within all our minds has so enchanted us that we lack the courage to shift even an inch from it in either direction.

It cannot be believed that man is always, or constantly, immersed in suffering. I can believe that he is momentarily happy, momentarily sorrowful—this much I can accept. Even a person who is enjoying temporary happiness, if you ask him, will say unmoved that there is no happiness whatsoever in his life. Such people abound around us. What shall I say of such a person? I cannot call him a liar; because he harbors the conviction that all mankind is unhappy, and therefore even happiness, whatever it is, is reckoned as suffering in his eyes. What he says may be true, yet there is a discord between his perception and his words—and therein lies the root of the problem.

Suppose a person were to proclaim himself happy. What then? He would be lost; people would dismiss him at once as mad. People want everyone to say that life is suffering. But if that were so, why has laughter come into being in this world? Why does the heart leap when flowers bloom, when the moon rises, when the cuckoo calls, when a child laughs? Are the gentle breeze, the stillness of night, the waves of the river, the depths of the sky—are these steeped in sorrow, or does looking upon them make the heart ache with suffering? When a mother calls with affection in her tender voice, when a beloved companion stands trembling before you with joy, when children leap into your lap with the passion of the heart—does not even a sorrow as hard as stone melt away?

If all things were to produce suffering, then surely we must say that this world is full of sorrow. Yet on one side, as joy flows in every direction around the world, as waves of happiness undulate all about, on the other side there is also suffering—this much is true. Suffering too has the same kind of current as happiness, raging waves, vast terror, separation and loss, burning anguish, disease and affliction—all these are the companions and attendants of sorrow. From this very fact it can be seen that the world is not only filled with suffering, but also with happiness. But which predominates—suffering or happiness?

He who looks at the world through the eyes of suffering sees suffering everywhere; but he who looks through the eyes of happiness sees both happiness and suffering. This is the difference between the eyes of sorrow and the eyes of joy. He who is bent upon seeing only suffering will forever see only suffering. In this life he shall not know happiness; the face of joy shall never appear to him so long as he lives.

You love suffering? Very well then; but keep your suffering to yourself in silence, do not parade your pain before the world and drive people mad, do not become the murderer of another's happiness. Every human being is happy, every living creature is happy. Happiness is the goal of life, happiness is its ideal. Suffering is fleeting, but happiness is eternal. Suffering is not God's creation; happiness is His creation. He who is bliss itself, who moves within joy, for whom bliss is glory and happiness is wealth—suffering cannot issue from Him. What does He gain by giving me pain? If there were two gods, then perhaps I could believe that one creates happiness and the other suffering, and thus both gods busied themselves displaying their respective powers. But that is not the case—God is one, without a second!

He who sustains and dissolves all creation—why would He amuse Himself by giving me suffering? And I am but one among countless infinitesimal creatures; would He test me again? To think that He tests His creatures—sin itself accumulates in the mind at such a thought. If it were His intention to afflict us with sorrow and pain, what need was there to create us at all? And if He did create, why then has He arranged so much for our happiness and enjoyment? Those who say that birth, death, and decay are all suffering, and that whoever comes to this world must inevitably endure them—there is no escaping their grip! But think: are these sufferings truly real? What is real cannot be avoided; so what good comes from grieving over it and remaining bewildered?

What suffering is there in birth? From the very moment the child is born in the mother's womb, the mother begins to nourish it—even before the child enters the world, the mother's nectar-like milk flows and gathers. Where is the suffering of the newborn? And where is its capacity to understand good and evil in that state? If anyone suffers here, it is the mother. For she has nurtured and protected the child in her own body for two hundred and eighty days from the moment of conception; constantly vigilant, constantly anxious lest the unborn child suffer in any way! There is no limit to the sacrifices the mother makes for the child. Where is the child's suffering? When born, the child is indeed subject to illness and infirmity, but in that state it has not yet developed the faculty to feel anything at all. Until the child becomes self-reliant, its care, its happiness and sorrow—all depend upon its parents.

Further, I observe that while birth brings disease and sorrow, these are not constant, not every moment. As I have said before, they too are fleeting, and their memory also fades. The One who is bliss Himself—that He has immersed the world in joy—there is sufficient reason to believe this. But most of the grief and pain and age and disease that we see are either the result of our own faults or nothing but natural, inevitable occurrences. He is "the truth of truth" (Brihadaranyaka Upanishad). Therefore, we too, being parts of Him existing in countless forms, are nothing but being or Brahman. Being can never be touched by non-being or non-existence.

We have been cast forth in many forms, and we live and endure within this creation; therefore, we must play the game with nature. From time to time we stumble—and this is the source of suffering. When we follow the path, we do not fall. When we fix our gaze upon God and proceed, no amount of suffering—though it be countless—can do us any harm. Then there is no lack of joy. We must move through the world in joy, and we must not allow suffering to come near us. Suffering is a great teacher, suffering is merely a condition—thus, accepting the necessity and inevitability of suffering in life is the first step to happiness.

There is another matter. Man is by nature joyful. He is born into happiness, and for this reason he does not think separately about joy; it is only when sorrow comes that he cries out. If sorrow held dominion, we would grow accustomed to it, we would not think of it distinctly, we would not strive for deliverance from it. It is because we are creatures of happiness that even a small brush with sorrow unsettles and afflicts us. Just as God has furnished us with all manner of things to fulfill our every need in creation, so too has He set down certain laws. These are so bound together in the chain of cause and effect that when the slightest error or misstep occurs, it is not easy to escape its consequences.

For this reason, if we keep our gaze fixed upon God, anchor ourselves in that vision, and move through the various necessary laws with steadiness, suffering will not touch us at all. From where we have come, there we must return; no one can remain here. Man comes from emptiness and dissolves into emptiness. There is no exception to this. Only God knows how long we must stay. Therefore, we must not disregard His wealth and power, but must carry out His intended work with cheerfulness, with single-minded devotion and undivided attention. To come into the world and then abandon the burden of work, hiding away in some lonely forest—this will not do. This is reality, this is truth, this is the natural way. Our inability to accept this—that very inability—is suffering, which is nothing but a creation of man's own imagination.