The Crucible

(Free Article)

Over and again, through my years of writing, I have been asked the following question in myriad different ways. And the question is: “Why do I have to suffer?”

Everyone is secretly asking the question of themselves – whether openly or subconsciously, whether vocally or mentally, whether in public or in the privacy of their own minds.

Divorce, failing health, job loss, loneliness, insecurity, low self-esteem, social alienation, grief, disappointment, struggle, losing a loved one, body image issues, discomfort being in your own skin, family conflict, shame, guilt, self-hate, confusion, lack of purpose, lack of meaning, physical pain, disease, addiction, poverty – regardless what form suffering has taken in your life in this moment, all suffering serves one purpose and one purpose alone.

To bring you face to face with the void.

You may be brought there gradually, you may be brought there suddenly, you may be brought there gently, you may be brought there violently, you may be brought there knowingly, you may be brought there shockingly, you may be brought there an inch at a time or you may be swallowed up by it.

In whichever way life introduces you to the void – whether for the first time or the hundredth – facing the void is painful, it is horrifying, it is hollowing, it is desolating…

…and it is, paradoxically, life’s greatest gift to you.

For when you gaze into that void, what you are suffering is not what you see in it – but what you DON’T. Which is everything you know, believe, desire, crave and cherish. You are suffering the dawning realization that what you thought was real is not. What you believed to be true was not. Who you thought you were you are not.

It is like looking in a mirror expecting to see your own face but instead seeing NOTHING. And realizing that THIS is in fact your true reflection.

What a brutal truth to come to terms with. Realizing that everything we’ve believed in, everything we’ve wanted, everyone we’ve known, everyone we’ve loved, the stories we have lived, the memories we have made, the hopes we have harbored and the dreams we have fulfilled – in the end all vanish into the ethers like wisps of smoke, until there is no trace left.

And always, ALWAYS – only the void remains.

After a lifetime of loving our beloveds – one day they are suddenly gone. And all that remains of them is that empty chair. That empty crib. That empty bed. That empty space inside of us that we know will never be filled again. And a silence so violent that we would scream to escape it.

Today I met a friend whose son took his own life a few weeks ago with no word of warning. As I held her in my arms, I could feel her gut-wrenching sobs of deep agony as she cried helplessly in my embrace. I could feel her shattered heart rattling against my chest – I could hear her cries echo within the depths of her hollowed out being.

Pain. Such unimaginable pain. Swallowed suddenly by the void without warning.

And yet, as macabre, as perverse, as repulsive and as incomprehensible as this sounds – this is life’s gift.

The shattering of illusions. Even the beautiful ones. Even the cherished ones. Even the sacred ones. Even the ones we would beg and pray on our hands and knees not to be taken away. Even those ones…

From the void we come. To the void we return. And in the interim, there is only the void.

For that is our true nature. The only constant in all of this. It is the space, the eternal backdrop, the crucible in which our lifetimes are forged.

It is the cauldron of pure potential from which all things become and unbecome in perpetuity. Birth and death, birth and death – every second, every minute, every hour of every day. And we are in a state of perpetual oscillation between grief and celebration – grieving the moments that are past and celebrating the ones to come.

When we find ‘ourselves’ in the becoming and unbecoming, we are tossed and torn asunder by the vicious tides of circumstance and the vicissitudes of fate.

Yet, the peace that surpasses all understanding is only revealed when we realize that who we are exists prior to all becoming and unbecoming. Who we are is that very void from which this ephemeral world emerges, effervesces and fizzles out – like endless bubbles in a stream.

And though we may scream and rage and cower and dread being made to confront that void – it is really ourselves that we are being made to confront.

For that is life’s gift. To return you to yourself. And suffering is the road that leads you there.

The path of loss is the path of life.

The void is the unflinching reminder that all dreams end. And when you wake, nothing remains.