“Can I sit with suffering, both yours and mine, without trying to make it go away? Can I stay present to the ache of loss or disgrace—disappointment in all its many forms—and let it open me? This is the trick.” ~Pema Chödrön
At forty-seven years of age, I have experienced chronic illness in some form since my mid-to-late twenties. This past year, I’ve also encountered chronic pain on a level I have never experienced before. Part of that is illness-related, and part of it is simply my body getting older, coupled with the effects of repetitive motions from sitting and working with my hands for several years.
It is worth mentioning that I had a massive spiritual awakening about three years ago. For the first time in my life, I realized that what I believed was no longer true. It was a time that shook me to my core, a period of great emotional healing and discovering who I am.
The real me, not the curated me constructed by trauma, upbringing, and societal norms. I’m a weirdo to my core, and I now fully embrace that (haha). During that time of navigating my tumultuous awakening, I noticed a subconscious dynamic at play and one that certainly was without ill intent.
There can be a fine line between ignoring or suppressing pain or chronic illness and focusing on positive thinking and manifesting health.
While there is merit to both positive thinking and manifesting health, it can feel like society views pain or chronic illness as a sign of doing something wrong, or of being deficient in some way. When there’s a disconnect from what’s happening in the present moment, shame can arise—not just from not meeting ourselves where we are, but for not “manifesting” health or happiness, either.
I found myself in that stream of thought subconsciously. It wasn’t until I heard a teaching by Tara Brach, in which she spoke about the importance of honoring the reality of what is, that I became aware of it. It was such a light bulb moment! I realized that I was completely ignoring my pain and chronic illness, somehow believing that if I didn’t speak it out loud, it would simply go away.
When that awareness came, I found that I could accept my reality in each moment, as well as see that my practice was working. I met myself not with shame or judgment but with vast compassion and a willingness to turn toward the suffering.
What mindfulness teachings and practices encourage is a gentle acceptance of each moment—whatever it may hold, without judgment, and if is judgment there, to include it. When we draw our attention to respond skillfully to pain and illness, rather than reacting out of fear or denial, it fosters inner peace, resilience, and a deeper connection to ourselves.
It’s powerful to simply name the felt sense of what’s happening when pain and illness come to visit—even if it’s just to yourself. Naming is witnessing, and witnessing brings what is hidden to light. When I practice this, a tender softening and an embodiment of compassion arise.
Another helpful practice for mindfully meeting pain and illness is a meditation practice known as “titrate and pendulate.” To practice this, the invitation is choosing a neutral spot on the body, such as the top of the head, the forehead, or even the sensation of your hair. After you choose that neutral spot, if it feels supportive, turn your kind attention to the pain or discomfort for a moment or two.
Acknowledge it, breathing with it, without getting caught up in the story of why it’s there. Then, shift your attention back to the chosen neutral spot. This practice can help to create spaciousness, and you may even notice some ease.
There are times when great pain and illness make this inaccessible, and that’s completely okay. It’s okay to put your practice to rest for a time, or to practice in ways that create a sense of ease, peace, or happiness within the mind and body.
This might look like talking to a friend, going for a walk if you’re able to, drinking a comforting tea, watching a beloved show, resting, or sleeping. Mindfulness has no judgment about missed days—or even months.
For the past three to four months, due to physical pain and work-related busyness, I’ve been unable to maintain my daily seated meditation. My practice lately looks less formal and shorter than it did at the beginning of the year. It might look like a few moments of gratitude, noticing my breath, or doing a mini RAIN practice (Recognize, Accept, Investigate with curioisity, Nurture). The beauty of having a mindfulness practice is that it’s always here for you, in whatever ways feel supportive.
I deeply appreciate Jack Kornfield’s description of pain and illness as “energies that come to visit.” Pain and illness, especially if chronic, do not define who we are, and they do not remain static, even when it feels that way.
Before mindfulness became my way of life, I made my chronic illness and its circumstances my identity. In my mind, I was a victim—angry and stuck in that mindset. There was deep-seated hatred toward my body and often a feeling that the universe was against me.
These past few years of regular practice have completely changed my perspective! I now see myself as more than my body and its abilities. I understand the foundation of impermanence: everything changes, and nothing stays the same—not even pain or illness.
Though I still have some forms of chronic illness, I’m not where I was. There’s an ebb and flow to everything in life, including this. I’ve cultivated compassion for myself and now see my body as wise and communicative. I listen and meet myself where I’m at.
At our core, we are conscious, present awareness. We aren’t our names, jobs, or roles. We are so much more. We are light. We are love. We are goodness. No matter our abilities or disabilities, we are inherently worthy. Our worth is 100% NOT determined by our productivity.
Mindfulness bridges the divide between ignoring pain, shame, and self-hatred. It offers great wisdom: pain and illness are energies that come to visit. There is an ebb and flow. They do not define us.
They can coexist with peace, joy, gratitude, contentment, and compassion, teaching us to embrace the full spectrum of the human experience with its 10,000 joys and 10,000 sorrows. These experiences, met with mindful compassion, empower us to find meaning and growth in our experiences.
About Sarah Jester
Sarah is a jeweler and a mindfulness meditation teacher in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. She is deeply passionate about the transformative power of mindfulness meditation. Through her practice, she has reclaimed her voice, inner strength, and authentic self. She creates a nurturing and safe space for others to explore mindfulness meditation, offering kind and non-judgmental attention to whatever arises. Each session is infused with kindness and love, guiding participants toward their own healing and self-discovery. Visit her at sarahrenajester.com and on Insight Timer.
