A Syncopated Rhythm of Joy and Pain

I once believed the pain of business failures was something to conquer, not listen to. I had learned to be strong, to keep a tight tempo, and override any failure.

I felt an acute tightness in my chest, and my gut roiled in discomfort in my determination to keep my life in balance and to shut out the discord of stressful days.

Maybe it's the imbalance of stress and pain that feels to me like the dissonance of jazz. Peace isn't always found in perfect timing, but in syncopation. Jazz flourishes in deliberately displacing the expected musical accent.

Presently, my scoliosis is severe. When I’m standing, or walking I feel off kilter, even precarious. I grasp for the mental construct of how to sense and feel physical balance.

It seems like part of embracing pain is trusting the improvised rhythm of my life.

Joy doesn't erase suffering, and suffering doesn't silence joy. Each gives meaning to the other.

There’s something powerful in the struggle of loss. It’s a force within pain and suffering that makes me want to cry out, “Why me? How do I get rid of it?”

If I avoid facing both the serenity and struggle of this life, I risk slipping into bitterness. I've watched friends become trapped by old resentments and regrets. Their suffering hardened into bitterness. I don't want that to become my song.

Now, as a syncopated rhythm begins to hold me, I’m asking, “What is this pain trying to tell me?”

Early on, I didn’t realize how often in the hard times, family and friends have helped carry my rhythm. Some believed in me when I couldn't. Some admired my perseverance. Others simply stayed present. Looking back, all of them taught me about how to hold on in suffering.

It’s becoming clear to me that pain has its own discernment. Within all of jazz's surprises, syncopation, and swing, I want to allow new rhythms to be expressed without resistance. They’re not to be blocked, balanced, or adopted as an identity. When we allow that rhythm to express itself it transforms into wisdom.

So which parts of me are taking the lead? What needs to step into a supporting role?

As financial pursuits become quieter and physical strength diminishes, family, mentoring, reading, stillness, and most of all, the rich textures of love rise to the foreground. I hear these now with ears I never had while pursuing other achievements.

Pain lingers, but now my body, mind, and emotions listen to what it has to say. It reminds me to improvise rather than seek control.

It's more like jazz. Joy and suffering keep interrupting one another, and somehow together they become my music.

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I would love to connect with you on LinkedIn and Facebook​

See you next week,

Grayson

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