Pain as a Lover

Table of Contents

• essay: ‘Pain as my Lover’

• Book Launch

essay: ‘Pain as my Lover’

I was never so free before, and I never felt so much pain.

The movement of the moment is not fighting ourselves into the light. The movement of the moment is to realize the light always shone on the darkness.

We need warriors who are able to feel the pain that so many are not able to feel. Not as a martyr... not like “look at me feeling the pain,” not like “you, I’m better than you, I can feel the pain,” but as the mere acknowledgment that you (I) feel that amount of pain that we (I) cannot run from it.

The acknowledgment that pain, as fucking fucked as it is, is a big part of my life. In my body. In my brain. In my human system.

I cannot remember a time that I didn’t feel pain. Running from pain was my savior — this made me a martyr. Running into drugs, painkillers, sex, self-harm, self-pity. Blaming my pain on the idea of the unfairness of the different amount of feeling capability of other human systems — “why do I need to feel your pain?”

Ironically, running from my pain was the basis of my life living with pain.
Refusing the pain was refusing my grief.
My love.
My life.
Ironically, it was the amount of darkness that led me to my amount of perceived light. It was my pain that showed me my love.

Still, a part of my brain believes that the unfairness of me feeling pain so deeply is a reason to hide in a corner and refuse all humankind — refuse me, as a part of it.

Writing this, I’m sitting on the floor with my back against a garage in one of my favorite morning spots — a bar where normal people sit on chairs and tables.
The ground was always very grounding to me.

Django is sleeping between the legs of the table, not being able to move more than 100 meters. My boy gets old. And I cry.

For me, the stretch of being fully alive is the acceptance that I’m already crazy, doomed, and dead. “Morbid,” you say? Maybe... But life lives here too.

The dance I was waiting to dance lay in the acceptance of my darkness. Of my meanness. Of my morbidness. Of my pain.

Here I can dance. Here is the light. Here is where suffering changes into merely pain. Ironic, isn’t it?

I often see a thought flying by that I need to be one of the love-and-light people, as if darkness doesn’t exist... But lying to oneself is the only thing that refuses to see the light — even when the light only shines on the dark.

I find my joy in pain. Life itself is pouring out of the cells of suffering. The rainbow that runs through heaven is laid by bricks of hurt.

The weird thing is that when we acknowledge the sight of darkness — maybe even as an addiction — one can see that the dark was secretly the light that we were looking for.

I’m still not really okay with this. (The mirror effect is true within this statement.)

I’m still blaming myself for “wrong choices,” even when I see myself now feeling my pain in the sunlight of Italy, instead of in the darkness of a non-moving body full of fear and attacks.

My external world is changing rapidly within the surrendering of pain.
There was never so much light.
There was never so much dancing.
There was never so much love.
There was never so much trust.
And there was never so much pain.

Dreams are being lived out loud only — and only — because I sink deeper into the awareness of pain.

And I know a lot of you are like me. Feeling like a failure, even when you are a medicine miracle. Feeling like an imposter, even when you speak from truth. Feeling doomed, even when truly alive. Feeling sick, blamed, and labeled, even when awareness runs through the never fully accepting human system.

Slowly, slowly,
even more slow, and then...
again a little bit slower.
Breathe.
Let the sun play with the seeds that looked lost in winter, even while winter looked like ten years.
Let the breath open up the long-lost darkness.
Make pain your lover.
Slowly, slowly,
even more slow.

Everything we do is counter to the norm that goes quicker and quicker by the minute. There is no adrenaline to find in quickness for us.
There is no dopamine to find within the world that will never see us — so many are not really looking.

It’s time to see that it’s your darkness that wants to be witnessed. Your pain. Your struggle. Your humanness. Your aliveness.

It’s time to say to your world: Look at me. Look at where we are. Look at me thrive in it. Look at me.

The freedom of dancing with the enormous amount of pain is leading the way for those who can’t see that there was only light, because there was only darkness to begin with.

Book Launch

My new book is launched the end of October. And I'm still moving through every feeling possible on the human spectrum. I'm proud while feeling cringe. Im happy while feeling sad. I'm grateful while feeling angry. The title of the book says it all. There is no escape from being the human that you are in:

In Italia life is also just like this. Part II of the trilogy ‘From God to Human’

One of the best poetry written in this time of age (so humble).

I hope you can find your wholeness while reading my brokenness and see that we were always meant to be from the beginning.

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Link for the dutch market: