“If I stop moving it will get worse”

As in, pain is literally dampened by dopamine, and dopamine comes when you move, so it hurts less when you move.

Like I’ve encountered some serious monsters in this life, that came as a result of procrastination. I’ve experienced hunger, violence, and disease that all came my way because I froze with fear and uncertainty.

As Confucius says: “It does not matter how slow you go, so long as you do not stop.”

It’s so hard to believe, but I remind myself that there is an almost magical barrier in front of me. It’s like an Indians Jones illusion. It looks like hell in front of me. But if I step into it willingly, it becomes heaven.

Like a door, and through the door is your living room, but you know when you step through it you’ll be in Narnia or something. A magical/hologram projecting doorway, that looks like it leads to Place A but actually leads to Place B, is the best analogy for my mind.

The reality I’m pointing at with the analogy is that leaning into it is the only way to make the pain stop. Because if you run from it, it chases you.

I was lucky to learn this in some long meditation retreats. It’s always about day 3 or 4 that I realize the only way I’m going to stay sane is if I actually meditate. And even though it’s sitting still literally, it’s the willing engagement with the thing I’m trying to avoid that makes it bearable. “The wisdom of no escape” is what Pema Chodron calls that, I think.

Somebody else once called it “Leap like a tiger while sitting”. That tiger’s predator face and posture is about as raw an expression of dopamine as could ever exist. And you get that dopamine rush, that cessation of the suffering, that only go straight ten thousand years try try try direction, when you stop trying to distract yourself with thoughts and accept that you’re there in the meditation hall and nothing is going to happen to relieve you of that.

It isn’t pretty, but it is beautiful: If you stop and cower, everything gets worse.