Sunshine and Rain:

The Melody of Joy and Pain

Who can truly say they've never felt fear or distress? That they've never endured any kind of torment—emotional, physical, or both?

The truth is, there are no human beings walking this earth who haven't experienced suffering in some form. Even the happiest, the wealthiest, and the most seemingly undisturbed people you know have faced challenging times at some point in their lives.

One of the most uncomfortable—and yet one of the most important—truths we must face is that suffering is essential to maturity and personal growth.

There’s no better teacher than pain. That doesn't mean, of course, that we can't learn valuable lessons during moments of joy. But it's only in our darkest moments that we can truly grasp the depths of people's most cavernous sorrows—and develop genuine compassion for their pain. Only those who have lost a child can truly understand the heartache of a grieving parent. Only those who have faced extreme poverty can grasp the anguish of a famished child. And only those who have fallen into deep depression can hear the silent screams echoing through an empty mind.

While reflecting on these depths, I’ve decided to delve even further into the matter and explore it from different perspectives—beginning with a more technical and less biased point of view.

According to the International Association for the Study of Pain (IASP), the most accurate definition of the word "pain" is:

“An unpleasant sensory and emotional experience associated with, or resembling that associated with, actual or potential tissue damage.”

Etymologically, pain derives from the Latin word poena, which means "penalty" or "suffering inflicted as punishment for an offense."

On the other hand, suffering has a slightly different meaning. According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), the definition of suffering is:

“The bearing or undergoing of pain, distress, or tribulation.”

Its etymology comes from two Latin words: sub, meaning "below" or "under," and ferre, meaning "to bear." Put together, these two words resemble the term underbearing, which refers to the act of supporting or enduring something.

These definitions draw a fine line between pain and suffering. Pain is described as an unpleasant sensation associated with actual or potential tissue damage—limiting it mostly to its physical facet, even though it includes emotional experience. Suffering, on the other hand, is interpreted as the ongoing endurance of that pain—almost as if pain could be stretched like cookie dough, drawn out slowly to be experienced little by little.

Yet one crucial aspect is missing from both definitions: neither acknowledges the educational value of pain or the transformative process that suffering can initiate.

My intention is not to advocate for pain and suffering as beneficial experiences we should seek out in the name of personal growth, but rather to reflect on the ways in which we often maximize them—and how we can use the undesirable, yet inevitable, challenges of life to our advantage.

Throughout human history, religion has been one of the most sought-after resources people turn to for consolation in the face of suffering. Each tradition, in its own way, offers words of comfort to ease one’s pain. Some emphasize the importance of accepting and enduring suffering, while others tend to discourage wrongdoing in order to avoid it. In truth, both perspectives can be found—explicitly or implicitly—within all major religions.

Growing up in a country with a Catholic majority—and in a family that was part Catholic and part Kardecist (a spiritualist doctrine rooted in Christianity)—my early perspective was shaped primarily by the teachings of Jesus, which also echo Jewish traditions. Still, it wasn’t until I grew older and took on more responsibilities that I began to seek a deeper understanding of spirituality and religion. By then, I had already moved to the United States and was interacting with people from a variety of cultural and religious backgrounds. These experiences opened my mind and heart to explore spirituality from different angles. My Kardecist upbringing also played a key role in this openness, as it tends to promote acceptance and nonjudgment.

Jesus spoke frequently about the importance of enduring suffering. Countless passages in the New Testament show him encouraging his followers to accept the hardships of this world and to “carry their cross” with resilience, assuring them that their perseverance will be rewarded in heaven. This was one of his most recurring messages: that through detachment from the material world, one could find true joy and lasting peace on a higher plane.

For example, in Matthew 16:24–25, Jesus uses the imagery of the cross—already a symbol of extreme suffering—to represent the daily sacrifices and trials that come with spiritual commitment. And in John 16:33, he offers a message of reassurance amid adversity, acknowledging that suffering is part of life but reminding his followers that it can be faced with courage and faith in a better future.

And of course, there are the Beatitudes—spoken to a crowd gathered on a hillside—where he blesses the meek, the merciful, the mourners, the seekers of righteousness, the peacemakers, and the persecuted. Rather than condemning suffering, he presents it as a potential gateway to spiritual strength and divine reward.

Another powerful example of detachment from worldly tethers is the story of Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha. Born into luxury as a prince, he chose to renounce his privileged life and live among the poor, even enduring hunger and hardship, so he could understand the nature of human suffering. His journey gave rise to the Four Noble Truths, which center on suffering as an essential part of life—but also offer a path to liberation through understanding, mindfulness, and inner transformation.

While Siddhartha Gautama was becoming an icon who would mark the rise of Buddhism, around the same epoch in China, there lived a humble Taoist sage known as the Old Master. Lao Tzu, as he came to be known, wrote words of wisdom with a poetic tone and a strong focus on humility, acceptance, and detachment. He didn’t speak directly about suffering, but rather about its alternative: letting go of worldly desires and yielding to the natural cycles of life. His writings later became known as the Tao Te Ching, harboring 81 chapters of timeless guidance on how to live a simple yet fulfilled life.

Among these chapters, I’d like to highlight two that speak especially to me when it comes to overcoming emotional affliction and self-generated suffering.

In Chapter 44, he warns us against excessive attachment to possessions and status. We tend to overvalue material goods and positions of prestige to the point where we sacrifice our peace of mind—and even our sense of self—in pursuit of them. This clinging to things, and the overestimation of fame, can be a source of suffering: either for not having them or for fearing their loss once attained.

In Chapter 78, he uses the metaphor of water—a recurring theme in the Tao Te Ching—to teach the hidden power of letting go. He states:

“Nothing in the world is softer and weaker than water, yet nothing is better at overcoming the hard and strong.”

Water appears weak and soft, but its strength lies in its adaptability. It conforms to whatever contains it: a cup, a bottle, a stream. It flows around obstacles and, when exposed to different temperatures, changes its state to meet the conditions.

Lao Tzu repeats this metaphor throughout the Tao Te Ching to illustrate how we should navigate life in order to avoid unnecessary suffering. If we can be as adaptable as water to the situations we encounter, we will move through life with greater ease and tranquility.

While these teachings resonate deeply with me, I find it important to explore how other spiritual traditions approach this same theme. After all, suffering is not exclusive to any one culture or belief system—it is a shared human experience.

In the Qur’an, we find this passage in Surah Al-Baqarah 2:153:

“O you who have believed, seek help through patience and prayer. Indeed, Allah is with the patient.”

And later, in verse 2:214, believers are reminded that hardship was endured by prophets and righteous people before them—emphasizing that perseverance through trials is part of a sacred legacy.

The Hindu scriptures also reflect this understanding. In the Bhagavad Gita 2.56, Lord Krishna praises the one who is not disturbed by pain or pleasure, calling such a person wise and fit for immortality. And in verse 8.15, he speaks of those who attain his eternal abode as being freed from the world of sorrow—a world they were able to rise above through devotion and discipline.

Regardless of where you come from—your cultural, religious, or philosophical background—all human beings experience emotions in the same way. And regardless of social status, financial situation, or health condition, everyone carries their own reasons to feel fear, joy, anger, happiness, sadness, compassion, anxiety, gratitude, and so on.

If there’s one thing all spiritual traditions seem to agree on, it’s this: pain is inevitable. And while suffering may visit us in different forms, the way to minimize it—or transform it—is through alignment with the righteous path. Yet, as the old saying goes, “this too shall pass,” because the world is in constant motion. How long suffering will linger often depends on how deeply one can embrace acceptance in the face of life’s inevitable trials—whether they’re direct consequences of our actions or not.

In Kardecist Spiritism, there’s a saying: “Sowing is optional, but the harvest is mandatory.” Every action is a seed, and the consequences are its fruits. And let us not forget—one small seed can grow into a tree that bears many fruits. A single good action can yield countless blessings, just as a single harmful act may ripple into many forms of pain.

As the song “Joy and Pain” by Maze and Frankie Beverly reminds us:

“Joy and pain are like sunshine and rain... and they're both one and the same.”

Just as a tree needs both sun and rain to grow and bear fruit, we too need the right balance of joy and sorrow to mature and harvest the fruits of experience. Because in the end, joy and pain are really just one and the same—in the rhythm and melody of life.