Maybe suffering and misery is the point of life.
Consider that the earth is a processing plant, a factory.
Picture a tumbler used to polish rocks:
A rolling drum filled with water and sand.
Consider that your soul is dropped in as an ugly rock,
some raw material or a natural resource, crude oil, mineral ore.
And all conflict and pain is just the abrasive that rubs us,
polishes our souls, refines us, teaches and finishes us over lifetime after lifetime.
Then consider that you've chosen to jump in, again and again, knowing this suffering is your entire reason for coming to earth.
It was impossible to tell if she heard him; with their unspoken tales of infant tragedies, of troubles and pains beyond her years, the eyes stared drearily past his shoulder.
And out of your suffering will rise my victory.
She seemed dressed in all of me
Stretched across my shame
All the torment and the pain
Leaked through and covered me
I'd do anything to have her to myself
Just to have her for myself
We suffer more often in imagination than in reality.
Explanation:
On Groundless Fears (Letter 13)
This is not heaven. It's the world. And there's troubles in it.
Showing up when things get rough, listening to people's problems, and supporting those in need; that's how you become stronger, that's how you grow.