Every person you meet is carrying something.
Loss.
Disappointment.
Heartbreak.
An unhealed wound from childhood.
A betrayal they never saw coming.
Pain is not just personal — it’s universal.
But so is this truth:
You can suffer and still heal.
You can break and still rise.
You can hurt and still transform.
In Think Like a Monk, Jay Shetty reminds us that monks don’t escape pain —
they sit with it.
They learn from it.
They alchemize it into meaning.
Let’s explore how you can do the same.
💔 Pain Is Not Your Enemy
Most of us are taught to:
- Numb pain
- Distract ourselves from it
- Hide it
- “Get over it” quickly
But when you bury pain, it doesn’t disappear.
It grows in the dark.
It shows up in your relationships, your health, your dreams.
Pain is not asking to be buried —
It’s asking to be heard.
🔥 Purpose Is Forged in the Fire
Think of every person who inspires you.
Chances are — they’ve turned their pain into purpose.
Survivors become guides.
Grief becomes advocacy.
Heartbreak becomes art.
Loss becomes appreciation.
Mistakes become wisdom.
Your pain can either define you — or refine you.
It’s not what happened that shapes you — it’s what you do with it.
🧘 What Monks Teach Us About Pain
In silence, monks don’t escape emotion.
They face it head-on — with presence, not panic.
They ask:
- What is this pain teaching me?
- How can I hold this gently?
- Where can I turn this wound into service?
Monks don’t fear pain.
They honor it — as a teacher.
🛠 4 Practices to Turn Pain into Purpose
1. Journal the Pain Honestly
Let it flow out — unfiltered.
Name it. Feel it.
Give it language.
Example prompt:
“What pain am I avoiding, and what would happen if I faced it?”
2. Find the Lesson (Gently)
Don’t force meaning.
But ask:
“What did this experience awaken in me that I didn’t know before?”
3. Transform It Into Service
Even quietly sharing your story helps others feel less alone.
Your healing becomes a roadmap.
4. Stop Asking ‘Why Me?’ — Start Asking ‘What Now?’
“Why” can trap you.
“What now” moves you toward growth.
🌱 Final Reflection
Pain doesn’t mean you’re broken.
It means you’re alive.
It means you’ve risked. Loved. Lost. Felt.
And when you give pain your presence —
It gives you your purpose.
Not in one moment.
But gradually — as your scars begin to whisper:
“This, too, had a reason.
And now, I carry it differently.”
That is transformation.
That is strength.
That is what it means to think like a monk.