ergo, naught: much ado about nothing

One thing leading to another, I found myself listening to Johnny Cash’s cover of Hurt, talking to a friend (I guess?) and coworker (that much is certain), and we get into a brief discussion about pain and creativity.

Why is it that pain seems to be the real creative force? I asked. Love and happiness burn themselves up in their own expression, but hurt seems infinitely renewable.

And he says to me, paraphrasing a bit, “Pain is trying to get somewhere, happiness is being there".

So pain is the journey is pain.

Pain Is.

Not precisely an Earth-shattering revelation (Buddhists, at least, have known it for thousands of years), but I found the conversation sufficiently interesting to note it.