Nothing in nature is useless. Every part of the whole has a specific function and exists for a reason. That doesn’t mean we always understand what that reason is — but our lack of understanding doesn’t make it any less valid.

As humans, we’ve made incredible progress in many areas of life, yet we often stumble when it comes to understanding ourselves.

We tend to want to “fix” situations that seem less than ideal. Always chasing progress, comfort, and better conditions, we sometimes forget the very foundations of how our system truly works.

This isn’t just an individual issue — it’s a collective one. Society at large, especially modern Western science and medicine, has often developed an approach that overlooks the deeper wisdom of the body.

The problem lies in how we view what is “not ideal,” “unknown,” or simply “other.” This pattern runs across all branches of human knowledge, from medicine to politics, and it often leads to conflict and division.

At its core, this all comes down to two fundamental experiences: pain and fear.

Today, I want to talk specifically about body pain — why it matters, why it should not be dismissed, and how reframing our relationship with pain could revolutionize the way we relate to ourselves and to one another.

A Different Perspective on Pain

In Western society, pain is considered a malfunction, a bug in the system, a disruption of normality. If your head hurts, you are given a pill to silence it. If your stomach aches, you are prescribed something to make it disappear.

Pain is framed as an obstacle standing between you and health, and the solution is to eradicate it.

The assumption is simple: pain stands between us and health. Remove the pain, and we return to “normal.”

But what if that assumption is wrong?

If nothing in nature is without purpose, then pain must have a function too. What if pain isn’t an obstacle, but a messenger?

Think of it this way: when something goes wrong in our body, the nervous system sends a signal to the conscious mind. That signal is pain. It’s not there to punish us — it’s there to get our attention.

We can ignore it, numb it, or resent it. But removing the message doesn’t remove the underlying reason it appeared in the first place. That’s what we’re doing today: dismissing the message while missing its meaning.

Pain Belongs to the Mind

You fall and scrape your knee — you feel pain at the site of injury. You cut your finger — the pain alerts you to stop, protect, and heal. This is acute pain, a simple, practical response to harm.

But pain doesn’t actually “live” in the body. It is processed in the brain — specifically in the conscious mind. That’s why we are fully aware of it.

So, if pain is a conscious experience, where does it come from? The subconscious mind — the body’s deeper intelligence — is the sender of the signal. Pain is its way of saying: Pay attention. Something needs care.

Now, what about chronic pain?

Unlike acute pain, chronic pain forces us to stop. It takes over daily life, pulling our focus back to the essentials. It’s as if the body is saying: You can’t ignore me any longer.

This may feel very tough, but it’s actually an invitation — to slow down, reconnect, and re-establish communication between body and mind.

Pain as a Path to Transformation

Many of us see life as linear: we are healthy, we get sick, and we want to return to how things were before. But what if life isn’t about “returning”? What if it’s about evolving?

What if pain is not just a messenger, but a catalyst — a bridge to transformation?

Western medicine tries to numb or fight pain, isolating symptoms and destroying what seems to be the cause (like in cancer treatments). But what if the key is to feel/listen?

If the body is sending a message, there must be a way to understand it. That requires courage — the courage to tune into body sensations, open the communication channel between conscious and subconscious, and listen instead of suppress.

Final Reflection

Not everyone is ready for this. Some are curious, while others — as in my own case — arrive at this understanding only when all other strategies have failed. Yet the potential remains universal. The language of the body belongs to everyone, though most of us have forgotten how to speak it.

Relearning requires patience, courage, and a willingness to see pain not as an enemy but as a teacher.

So, let me leave you with this question:

What if pain isn’t against you, but a message for you?