The Wisdom of Kahlil Gibran’s ‘The Prophet’

With a sprinkling of Aristotle

‘The Prophet’ is one of my favourite books. No matter how many times I read it, there is always another nugget of wisdom to uncover. This week I was reminded of a passage posted by poeticoutlaws.substack.com from the book that was about pain.  

Whether we like it or not, pain is a part of Life, be it physical or emotional, and we spend an inordinate amount of time trying NOT to feel it, get rid of it, suppress it or mask it. Which is a pity, really, because pain is our greatest teacher. Perhaps it is our only teacher.

Pain has many faces and degrees. Feelings of discomfort, unease, embarrassment, guilt, shame, fear, anxiety, confusion, disquiet, chaos, heartbreak, grief, loss - to name but a few - are all expressions of pain. One of the things I have come to understand over the years is that if I start to feel any of these things there is something I need to pay attention to, something I need to learn.

Interestingly, this is true whether the pain is physical or emotional. Physical pain and illness can force us to stop and take to our bed for much needed rest. It’s also an opportunity to turn inward, slow down our thinking and actually observe our mind’s preoccupations. Trust me, it’s an interesting exercise.

Emotional pain can have the same effect. You might feel that things are getting out of hand at work or in a relationship, you feel under pressure or plain exhausted, and you just need a break. Again, it’s an opportunity to go inward and take it slowly for a while – an opportunity we too often ignore.

Which brings us to the the passage from ‘The Prophet’:

‘Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy.

And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity: For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.’

I find this passage both beautiful and scathing in its honesty. It speaks to the inevitability of pain we will experience throughout our lives and the utter necessity of it. The terrible truth is that we learn only when we are forced to, be that through our own ignorance or through circumstance. Whether it’s a child who learns that, yes, the stove will burn you if you touch it or an adult who owns their mistakes and takes responsibility for their actions, there will be pain.

‘Learning is not child’s play. We cannot learn without pain.’ Aristotle

Do we wish this was not the case? Most certainly. But I bet if you look back on your life and recall your most valuable lessons – the ones that had the biggest impact in your life – there will be a whole lotta pain preceding it. You may also notice that the pain had an endpoint and, despite what you thought at the time, it was endurable because here you are now, reading this, perhaps even with a sense of gratitude - if not for the experience, then certainly for what it taught you. ‘It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self….’

I have come to respect my own pain when it arises. It has taught me more than my happiness ever could. It’s not about trying to figure out what’s wrong with me or why did this happen; it’s about uncovering the false belief, the illusion of self that is blocking me from living authentically and aligned with what is true in my core. It takes time, it takes patience, and it takes courage. Mostly it takes a willingness to sit with your pain long enough to find the lesson.

I have no doubt you will.

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