On Pain, Suffering, and the Creative Path

“Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.”

I’ve been sitting with this Buddhist phrase, letting it echo through my thoughts, particularly as it relates to creativity. Because let’s be honest: creative work comes with its own flavor of pain. The ache of pouring yourself into something, only for it to go unnoticed or ignored.

When my work—the essence of who I am as an artist—lands in silence, I suffer. Not always, but often. The sting of being overlooked can feel personal, like a rejection not just of the work, but of me.

But here’s the truth about creative work: it goes unnoticed most of the time. For reasons we can’t control—timing, taste, the whims of the world. This is one of the hardest lessons for me: to let the work find its own way in the world, at its own pace, without injecting unnecessary suffering into the process.

This, I think, is where a creative spiritual practice becomes essential.

If the spiritual path teaches us how to let go, the creative spiritual path teaches us the same lesson: to release the work once it’s done, trusting that its journey is no longer ours to control.

That’s not to say there isn’t room for discernment. Part of the creative process is knowing when the work doesn’t meet the standards of what it could be, when it needs refining, polishing, or mastery. That’s a different kind of pain—one rooted in growth, not rejection. And it’s important to recognize that some of what we call “failure” is just the work telling us it needs more time, more skill, or more attention.

But this stage—the one where you’re honing your craft and learning to release it—is messy. It’s humbling. Suffering is almost guaranteed. The challenge is to shift your perspective, to see the suffering not as a punishment but as a practice.

A daily, if not hourly, meditation: Why do I create?

For me, the answer is always the same: to move closer to wholeness. Whether or not my work moves others closer to wholeness is, ultimately, not up to me. That depends on the strength of the work, the paths it travels, the hands and hearts it finds along the way. And much of that is beyond my control.

That’s why it’s so important to keep creating.

Creative spirituality is a muscle. Like meditation, it needs regular practice to grow stronger. And just like meditation, it’s not about perfection. It’s about showing up daily, whether or not the work feels good, whether or not it’s noticed.

Because at its core, creativity is less about the outcome and more about the process. It’s the act of shaping something from nothing, of listening to yourself, of finding a rhythm between pain and release.

And when you practice this long enough, you begin to understand the wisdom of that Buddhist phrase. Pain will always be part of the process. But suffering? That’s a choice. And learning how to let go—not just of the work, but of the need for it to prove your worth—is what makes the creative journey sacred.