I sit, and soon, there it is—pain in my knee, my back, maybe my neck. It sharpens, draws my attention. The thought comes: I could move. I could stop this right now. That’s the familiar loop. But this time, I don’t move.
I notice something else: the space between the discomfort and the urge to escape. The gap.
In the gap, a question appears: Is this suffering, or is this just experience? The pain itself hasn’t changed. It’s still here, steady. But my perception of it is where the work is.
I see that suffering isn’t the sensation itself—it’s in resisting it, in the push against what’s already here. That push takes energy. Energy that could be fueling presence, fueling life, even fueling joy.
So I stop resisting.
The pain remains, but something loosens. I’m not using energy to fight it anymore. That energy flows elsewhere, into awareness itself. The gap widens.
Now, the gap feels less like an in-between moment and more like a tunnel. I’m inside it, and instead of being trapped in pain, I’m moving through something. And in this tunnel, if I stay open, I begin to sense doors. Little windows into ease, into being. Not because the pain has vanished, but because the suffering has dissolved.
The gap is everywhere—it’s the space between all things. The place where resistance turns into flow, where suffering turns into experience. And if suffering lessens, even a little, what remains is just this moment. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.
Spiritual Gravity 