Pain and Pleasure - Can't Have One Without the Other
So They Say
Life is full of pain and pleasure. (How profound.) Do we need pain to help us appreciate pleasure? How the heck do I know? I am not a Zen master, a deep-thinking philosopher, or a super-educated psychobabbler. But I, like most people, know what gives me pleasure and that which causes me emotional or physical pain. In this post, I will discuss a few examples of pain and pleasure I experience on a semi-regular basis.
I derive a great deal of pleasure from my favorite snack: peanuts. Specifically, the roasted and salted peanuts that come in large 40 ounce cans from Costco. I indulge in this pleasure almost every day. I try to limit myself to roughly two handfuls daily, so as not to overindulge.
When I was working at the library, I would take a fifteen minute break in the morning. I‘d go to the breakroom with a book, a cup of water, and a small baggie with my daily nut allotment, which was approximately the amount of peanuts I could consume in fifteen minutes. I did this every day for many years.
On one particular morning, I was leaving to take a break and I said to someone on my way out, “I’m going to go enjoy my nuts.” The person looked at me, like “What did you just say, you disgusting old pervert?” I quickly held up my little bag of peanuts and explained that I was going to the breakroom to have my morning snack. Got to be careful what you say these days.
I believe in finding pleasure in the mundane aspects of life. Such as yard work. Now, I will acknowledge that cleaning up the yard is boring, mindless labor. The process is not something that fills me with great pleasure. However, I find much pleasure in the finished product. I swell with pride inside when my wife compliments me on how nice the yard looks, although outwardly I try to downplay it. I mean, cleaning up one’s yard is hardly a praiseworthy or noble act done for the betterment of society, so, I’m reluctant to make too much of it. But, inside, I imagine myself receiving a gold medal in the Olympic sport of yard raking. (As you can see, I have serious issues.)
I have found that I receive a great deal of pleasure from writing a well-crafted, well-punctuated sentence, one that expresses exactly what I am trying express. Occasionally, I will go back to the archives and read something I’ve written and think, “Geez, what was I trying to say here?” or, “What’s with the mangled syntax and the dangling participle?” (Like I know what a dangling participle is.) But, the times I think I’ve gotten it right make me feel prettay, prettay, prettay good. (Thanks LD.) My pleasure receptors get all tingly.
Some folks believe in the yin and yang of pleasure and pain, as in, one cannot exist without the other. I don’t know what to think about that. I do not spend a lot of time in the deep end of the philosophy pool. However, in an effort to bring a sense of balance to this essay, I will now discuss a few things that cause me some degree of pain.
Such as parking a car. It is almost always a total pain in the ass. I mean, really. No matter where you go, parking is going to be an issue. If possible, I try to park next to a curb, like at the end of a row or next to landscaping. I want at least one side to not be exposed to some jerk swinging his door open and dinging my car. This also allows me to get as close to the curb on that side as I can, thereby providing another couple of inches of space on the other side. Which could be the difference between ding or no ding. Obviously, the best parking spaces are those that protect one side and provide shade at the same time. Those spaces are gold.
Sometimes parking spots are at such a premium, you are forced to take the first one available. I hate the idea of both sides of my car being exposed to the careless nitwits out there who do not care anything about another person’s property. Sometimes, though, you do what you have to do.
I am not usually one to ascribe human emotions and feelings to inanimate objects. But, one time I had to park in the middle of a row with no protection on either side, and came back to find a new dent on the side of my car. I wanted to apologize to it for not protecting it better. How ridiculous is that?
Here’s another pain inducer. I watch a lot of baseball games, specifically the Pittsburgh Pirates. Which qualifies me as some sort of masochist, since they’ve been mostly terrible for the last 30 years. They actually were slightly better this year. They still had a losing record, but the optimist in me says maybe they are heading in the right direction. Finally.
Still, there were many games that were excruciating to watch. Misplays in the field, baserunning blunders, and taking strike after strike after strike, heck, sometimes I wonder if watching all this bad baseball affects my mental health, and not in a good way.
I think the most painful thing about watching the Pirates is when the pitchers can’t throw strikes. I cannot stand pitchers who do not throw strikes. By now, my wife is used to the moaning and groaning and expletives coming from my side of the sofa. Ball one, ball two, ball three, it’s like being poked over and over with a sharp stick. I have asked her, many times, “Why do I torture myself by watching this?” But I don’t stop.
I could refuse to watch the Pirates, I guess. Perhaps there is a part of me who believes I deserve the pain the Pirates have dished out for lo these many years.
A few paragraphs ago, I mentioned the pleasure I get from a well-crafted sentence. Well, the inverse is true, also. If I find a typo, or a word that I meant to change but didn’t, or a paragraph that just seems to make no sense, I experience something akin to emotional pain. I feel as if I should contact everyone who has read my post and apologize. Intellectually, I know everybody makes mistakes, and in this context, it’s rarely a big deal. It still bugs me, though.
The thing about pain and pleasure is that the concept of each, is unique to the individual. What is painful or pleasurable to me might be insignificant to someone else. And vice versa. Our relationships with others would be improved by vowing to never minimize or exaggerate another person’s definitions of pain and pleasure.
Yes to this: "Our relationships with others would be improved by vowing to never minimize or exaggerate another person’s definitions of pain and pleasure." Very well said.