Two Ways to Learn

A recent article on Mindvalley's Blog captured my attention last week. The basic premise of the article is that humans learn in two ways. One is through pain and the other is through moments of clarity, sometimes called "ah-ha" moments. Everyone experiences pain, but not everyone learns from it. Everyone has "ah-ha" moments, but they don't translate into life-changing trajectories. Think about it.

I thought about it all week as I was in excruciating tooth pain, the kind of pain that engulfs normal life. What was I learning? I learned that there were drugs that could mask my pain and that some could not. I learned that this kind of pain and I don't live well together. In my quest to be healthy emotionally, spiritually, and physically, I had to admit I'd completely ignored my teeth and they were letting me know they needed help.

I was fortunate to grow up in a family that took dental care seriously. When we were young we all went regularly to the dentist. I was fitted with an early version of braces with elastics that helped straighten my upper front teeth. I would have had straighter teeth as an adult except I lost the brace twice and we moved provinces. I remember my father almost dying. The cause of his infectious hepatitis illness was traced back to the dental office and a faulty suction device. In those days, it wasn't known that the suction devices could contain "back wash", or a small amount of saliva from the previous patient.

I had a dental plan when I had to get my wisdom teeth removed. When I was pregnant with my children, my then husband had a great dental plan and I was able to get substantial dental work done. A couple of those crowns lasted forty plus years. In my forties, I worked as a receptionist in a dental office so I had access to dental care again. It took working in a few dental offices to realize how crucial flossing one's teeth was. I'm sure that was the only reason my teeth stayed healthy for another twenty years before they began to fall apart.

In all those years I didn't have tooth pain at all, so it was a nasty surprise to suddenly feel pulsating, stabbing pain from a tooth that consumed my whole head. As I write this, I still have a bit of pain and my swollen face is slowly returning to its regular size. What deeper lesson have I learned from this pain? I've learned what pain needed to teach me several times over my life. Some of the pain taught me that I was walking away from my life's purpose and helped me to turn around. A wounded ankle taught me that healing could be spontaneous.

The most excruciating pain I've ever felt was after the birth of my first son. The anaesthetic didn't take on one side when the surgeon's scalpel was making the incision. My baby was having difficulties so they couldn't stop the operation, but that wasn't the worst pain. I woke up in the recovery room hearing myself scream through my foggy brain for more morphine, only to only to be told I'd just been given a shot. Both of us were much better in a couple of days. What did I learn? I learned that in birthing my son, despite the pain, I was swept up in an outpouring of love for him, for life, for all of humanity. A new being had entered the world and the pain I felt was minuscule compared to seeing and loving my healthy 10lb. 9oz. baby boy.

So what about this tooth pain? What is the growth I need to experience from this kind of pain? At the moment, I'm made aware, again, that every part of me deserves to be healthy. I haven't taken this seriously in the past, but for now, I'll be paying much more attention to every part of my body, to its signals, to its pain and acting on them in a timely manner. I also have much compassion for those experiencing tooth pain.

I've mentioned some of the physical pain I've had, but what about emotional pain? That, too, instructed me throughout my life in ways that were sometimes startling. There was a time when I believed I had to choose between two boyfriends I thought I loved. The pain was unbelievable until it suddenly turned into a state of bliss. My face turned white and I felt no pain. After a good night's rest, I was back to my normal self, but it was certainly scary at the time. What did I learn? That episode taught me that no-one could make me decide something before I was ready to make a decision. I could have considered myself and walked away from both of them.

The other kind of emotional pain was the pain of perceived abandonment I felt for most of my life. I won't go into details at this time because it is well documented in my upcoming book. My feelings about being abandoned were powerful and they snaked their way through my life in despair and hopelessness. What did I learn from that kind of pain? I learned so much from it, but, in the end, I learned to love myself.

Another type of pain I haven't touched on yet is pain felt by groups of people and countries in genocide, war, and disasters caused by natural and human forces. The latest pain in this category felt by millions of people is economic pain and its trickle down effects in job and home loss, homelessness and hopelessness. History has shown us what we don't want to ever experience again globally, like nuclear bombs and 911. Recent history with natural disasters has taught us that we have a collective responsibility to stop putting pollutants into our land and our water systems. Fires and floods rage worldwide. Wars continue as countries defend themselves from expansionist dictators. What are we learning from this kind of pain right now? I submit that nations are learning what's collectively important. We're learning what we stand for. We're also learning, if we can get over the fact that pain is happening, that every person has a part to play. It's up to each of us to get creative and contribute to solutions that will make us stronger. We need to look for the silver lining in the mass of dark clouds gathering.

The best lesson I learned from every kind of pain in my life is realizing that learning stares the victim in me, in you, in everyone, right in the face and says you're not a victim anymore. You learned from your pain and your life is altered in a way you couldn't have foreseen. You have become unstuck and have grown as a person, a community and a nation.

We are not meant to stay wounded. We are supposed to move through our tragedies and challenges and to help each other move through the many painful episodes of our lives. By remaining stuck in the power of our wounds, we block our own transformation. We overlook the greater gifts inherent in our wounds—the strength to overcome them and the lessons that we are meant to receive through them.

Myss, Caroline. Why People Don't Heal and How They Can (p. 32). Harmony/Rodale/Convergent. Kindle Edition.

Next week's blog post will explore the other way to learn, the "ah-ha" moments, and how they transform us.