These entities are so thoroughly consuming that they occupy every corner of the mind. There is no room left for any other kind of thought.

The energy you might have poured into chasing goals is instead spent on holding yourself steady. And in that quiet effort, it becomes too easy to lose sight of what you once wanted for yourself.

Chinese New Year in Bangkok; Artist: Galileo Chini (Italian, 1873-1956). Oil on canvas, 1913.

The most immediate and natural impulse, when caught in such a state, is to escape.

This presents itself in many forms: the endless indulgence of shows or games, scrolling on screens, abusing any substance that numbs you, or using other people to feel less lonely. Some diversions may be gentler or less harmful than others, but at their root, they are very much the same.

Other times you may not escape at all, but instead surrender entirely. You withdraw, remove yourself from the world, and give such undivided attention to your sadness that it becomes the state in which you live. It is all you know, because it the only thing you can attend to. Or, perhaps you can keep moving forward, but on autopilot, numb, and without any sense of purpose.

Whatever you do, it hurts all the same.

Z postem (After the Fast). Artist: Micheal Elwiro Andriolli (Polish, 1836-1893). Date: 1874.

Pain has a way of making itself known; it will not be brushed aside or silenced. The notion that “the only way out is through” may not be particularly welcome, but it is profoundly true. Many belief systems encourage detachment, and in many areas of life I find that practice both wise and necessary.

Yet I hold, too, that to honor one's pain, to meet it with honesty and with care, is not any less important. To feel with depth is not a weakness but a mark of a life lived with integrity.

Grief may be understood as the final translation of love. It is the giving of devotion to someone who can no longer receive it the same way as once they did. It is a sacred reminder of what you once shared, and of the depth of feeling for which you were fortunate enough to know. This deserves to be cherished. It shouldn't go to waste.

Anger has a purpose. It is the voice of the self perceiving that it has been dishonored, mistreated, or deprived of what it values. It rises in defense of your dignity, boundaries, and everything most dear to you.

The Vision of Hell Illustrator: Gustave Doré (French, 1832-1883). Date: wood-engraving ca. 1866.

It is the brain's job to download painful experiences. The fight, flight, or freeze response is a default setting of the brain. The human amygdala has been divinely designed to alert us when we are in danger, and/or out of alignment, and/or experiencing a threat to homeostasis.

We are all animals inclined to run from pain. And so, when safety, whether of the heart, the body, or the mind, feels threatened, this small sentinel does its duty. A sudden memory, smell, or trigger all may stir it. And when the heart races, the palms sweat, and the stomach churns, none of this is error. It is the body's way of declaring: you are under attack so I will protect you.

To surrender to these feelings is not to fall beneath them, but to discover within their depths what you long for, what you require, and what must be changed. Pain does not come to ruin you, nor is the body an enemy. It comes as a messenger only, asking to be acknowledged, to be understood, and (in time) to be transmuted. Because of this each one of us is called to the difficult work of threading past experiences into the present, so that it ceases to burden and instead instructs.

Schloss by Moonlight. Artist: Ernst Ferdinand Oehme (German, 1797–1855). Date: 1827. Medium: oil on canvas.

What unites your most cherished songwriters, artists, rappers, painters, directors, poets, or novelists? Each is, in truth, a type of alchemist. They have taken sorrow, anger, pain, and heartbreak in their rawest forms, and turned them into stories that outlast their moment.

Unknown (Coastal House with Boats). Artist: Philippe Charles Jacquet (French, b. 1954). Date: contemporary. Medium: oil on panel.

My favorite alchemist

James Dewitt Yancey, confined to his hospital bed and nearing his end at age 32, composed Donuts, an album that still beats with irrepressible life, released only days before his last breath. How this was done, I can't say, yet it was done. He turned his pain into something joyful, celebratory, and uplifting to others. This is the reason I can't help but love humanity, for at its best it is so tenderly beautiful.

It amazes me that this creation, born at the edge of death, outlives its maker, and reaches me still through my speakers, into my body, and transforms my day. Understand: even in our darkest times, we have the ability to generate something everlasting and change lives long after ours have ended.

Donuts. Artist: J Dilla (American, 1974-2006). Released: 2006. Album cover.

Let me not be mistaken. Success isn't the goal of transmutation. Its purpose is not to turn pain into achievement, accolades, or even recognition. The work lies in the act itself: in laying down what weighs on us, in drawing meaning from what once was pain, and in practicing alchemy with the material of your own life.

I can assure you, this is deeply healing work. When one chooses to take that heavy, oppressive energy and use it as fuel, a new clarity of focus will emerge. This is one that may very well save you. Whether it becomes writing, music, the shaping of something with your hands, or even the simplest act of care, the form hardly matters. What matters is that it offers direction. Pain is not erased, but given shape. It stops consuming you and instead becomes something you carry forward.

Lake George. Artist: Jasper Francis Cropsey (American, 1823-1900). Painted: 1866. Oil on canvas.

We need not remain at the mercy of our own suffering. Moment by moment, we may decide what meaning to make of it, and what legacy it will leave behind. In doing so, we serve not only ourselves, but those who come after us.

In the end, the question becomes the one posed by a wise friend, Nick Meccia: “Do you see the world as something to take from, or something to give to?”

What Freedom!. Artist: Ilya Repin (Russian, 1844-1930). Painted: 1903. Oil on canvas.