Reading this reminded me how much of my own “dukkha” comes from feeling like I should be somewhere else—further ahead, doing something more meaningful, living a bigger life. That quiet dissatisfaction, the sense that things aren’t quite right, has been a constant companion. It’s not dramatic suffering, but it lingers in the background, especially when I compare where I am to where I thought I’d be by now.
What resonated most was the idea that recognizing suffering as a universal truth is freeing rather than depressing. It reframes the frustration—not as proof that something is wrong with me, but as something intrinsic to life itself. Instead of resisting it, maybe there’s a way to learn from it. That’s a shift I’ve been trying to make: seeing discomfort as a teacher rather than an enemy.
I appreciate the way you’re making these teachings accessible. The ancient texts can feel distant, but tying them to everyday struggles—like the post-holiday slump or the tedium of work—makes them feel relevant. Looking forward to your take on the cause of suffering.
Thank you, Anton, for your kind feedback. I appreciate it. I had intended to respond earlier - apologies for my delay.
I find the whole concept of universal suffering (a core Buddhist belief) quite freeing. We seem to live our lives with the expectation that happiness will one day arrive arrive. And stay. The fact that it never does, and that oftentimes our expectations go unmet, causes pain. We (myself included, of course) also feel that happiness is conditional. We tell ourselves that once we get that promotion (recognition / girlfriend / new car etc.) we will be satisfied. But of course that fleeting sense of joy quickly recedes over the hill, leaving us to climb towards it once more.
My own dukka is of a similar nature to yours. My life is good. And yet in those quiet midnight moments, I feel something is a little off. It can be troubling, but then I suppose this feeling has an 'operational' use. We are driven to 'do things' in order to alleviate the dissatisfaction. We work, we strive, we build things (we build meaning, even).
Perhaps it's just a case of keeping the persistent feeling in check - and accepting the ever-present truth that none of us are ever alone in our suffering. Not really.
Reading this reminded me how much of my own “dukkha” comes from feeling like I should be somewhere else—further ahead, doing something more meaningful, living a bigger life. That quiet dissatisfaction, the sense that things aren’t quite right, has been a constant companion. It’s not dramatic suffering, but it lingers in the background, especially when I compare where I am to where I thought I’d be by now.
What resonated most was the idea that recognizing suffering as a universal truth is freeing rather than depressing. It reframes the frustration—not as proof that something is wrong with me, but as something intrinsic to life itself. Instead of resisting it, maybe there’s a way to learn from it. That’s a shift I’ve been trying to make: seeing discomfort as a teacher rather than an enemy.
I appreciate the way you’re making these teachings accessible. The ancient texts can feel distant, but tying them to everyday struggles—like the post-holiday slump or the tedium of work—makes them feel relevant. Looking forward to your take on the cause of suffering.
Thank you, Anton, for your kind feedback. I appreciate it. I had intended to respond earlier - apologies for my delay.
I find the whole concept of universal suffering (a core Buddhist belief) quite freeing. We seem to live our lives with the expectation that happiness will one day arrive arrive. And stay. The fact that it never does, and that oftentimes our expectations go unmet, causes pain. We (myself included, of course) also feel that happiness is conditional. We tell ourselves that once we get that promotion (recognition / girlfriend / new car etc.) we will be satisfied. But of course that fleeting sense of joy quickly recedes over the hill, leaving us to climb towards it once more.
My own dukka is of a similar nature to yours. My life is good. And yet in those quiet midnight moments, I feel something is a little off. It can be troubling, but then I suppose this feeling has an 'operational' use. We are driven to 'do things' in order to alleviate the dissatisfaction. We work, we strive, we build things (we build meaning, even).
Perhaps it's just a case of keeping the persistent feeling in check - and accepting the ever-present truth that none of us are ever alone in our suffering. Not really.