Joy & Pain
Philosophy says you can not have good without evil. Which is to say you have no frame of reference, no true way to define “good” if you don’t have it’s opposite. Now, I haven’t the philosophical experience to discuss good’s definition in terms of evil, but I believe it is related to another universal facet of the human experience: joy’s definition in terms of pain.
I took a calc-based physics class freshman year of undergrad taught by exactly the type of man you would expect to teach physics: someone who lived the life of a scientific intellectual, generally unconcerned with the messiness of expressing feelings and discussing emotions. By a peculiar twist of phrasing of which I can’t recall the specifics, he revealed to the class that his daughter was very sick, dying. The reaction was just as surprising, coming from a group of sleep-deprived youngsters just making it through another Wednesday morning class: a subvocal gasp rippled through the class. And one day, his daughter was gone. We knew no details, and our professor’s words gave us nothing but facts: she had been very sick, and suffered no longer. Though his words revealed little, his affect belied a profound relief. I guess I had expected a deep mourning to overcome him, and instead there was an incredible lightness. Over the course of just a week, he seemed to return to his previous self, quicker to laugh, a far more jocular, humorous man. The suffering had been taken away.
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During a proper workout, there should be stretches of time when you wonder if you can push any longer. A good workout should awaken your survival instinct: can I go 30 more seconds? Do I have 3 more reps? Will my lungs burn up if I breathe any faster? Push, push, push. On television shows such as “The Biggest Loser”, such exertion is driven to dramatic heights and nearly reaches parody. But, there truly is drama in a real workout. Thus, afterwards, as the dramatic arc dictates, you experience joy; wow, I’m standing here and it feels so magnificent. I’m just, standing. I’m breathing at a normal rate. Look at the sun, greet it’s warmth. The suffering has been taken away.
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To those incredibly brave mothers who are able to deliver a baby without an epidural (note that I do not disparage those who must use one for innate, unavoidable, physiologic reasons), there is a protracted period of immense pain. Women athletes have muscle tone and endurance helping them through delivery, but they also have something more; the understanding that there’s another phase after the pain. Pain, pain, pain, push, push, suffering — we place a mother’s delivery in many stories because it is true drama. The enormous dopamine rush that accompanies a successful delivery becomes shockingly potent: not only does mother greet a new life, but she delights in the release from exertion. The bond with baby is made even more powerful when it is combined with such relief. Mom is delivered from suffering.
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If I were to jumble up good/evil and joy/pain, I might say I don’t think pain is good. We do not wish pain on our companions, so that they might heighten their sense of joy. But, there pain is, out in the world, always a part of life. Joy doesn’t always spring directly from it, as in the anecdotes above, but joy pulls into clearer focus, a sculpture coming into sharper relief from the carving of the chisel.