Is suffering a choice?

A natural reaction to this question might be: Are you out of your mind? Who would willingly choose to suffer? It seems like common sense that we are wired to seek pleasure and avoid pain—that when hardship arises, we have little choice but to endure the suffering it brings until, eventually, time grants us relief. Yet, is it merely an instinct?

Close-up view of a serene meditation space with soft lighting

While our fundamental drive to avoid pain has been a cornerstone of human behavior throughout evolution, self-help literature offers a different perspective. Authors like Byron Katie and Deepak Chopra emphasize, each in their own way, that we are not merely victims of circumstance but active participants in shaping our experiences. Some Law-of-Attraction proponents, along with authors like José Silva, take this idea even further, suggesting that we don’t just respond to life—we create it, manifesting our reality through thought and intention.

The insight that we are not mere victims of circumstances but are somehow actively choosing how to engage with life is far older than modern bestsellers. When it comes to facing hardship, one of the most enduring insights— quintessential across various spiritual traditions—is attributed to Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha: Pain is an inevitable part of life, but suffering is a choice. While pain is unavoidable, suffering arises from our attachment to and resistance against it.

What does this insight really mean? According to Buddha, by resisting what’s happening in the present moment we amplify pain and turn it into something more—suffering. However, if we can fully embrace pain without resistance, we experience it without the added layer of suffering. In other words, suffering occurs when we refuse to accept reality as it is.

A simple example of this in our daily lives is how we complain about changes in the weather. While our complaints about a cold, rainy day won’t change the forecast, they certainly impact how we experience and enjoy the day — and might end up storming our mood in the process.

Byron Katie echoes this concept with both eloquence and humor: “When I argue with reality, I lose, but only 100% of the time.” Yet, we often fail to notice the subtle, unconscious resistance within us—the mental disagreement or disapproval of what’s happening in our present moment—and the tension that inevitably follows. As Isaac Shapiro points out, there’s often an underlying attitude in how we approach life, as if we’re unconsciously saying, “I don’t agree with what’s happening right now, and I refuse to be happy until it changes.” If only it were that simple…

Before we move on, you might enjoy taking a moment to reflect: Have you ever noticed that inner resistance at play within you? If so, does it feel like it has an aim – like trying to guide you toward a better experience or protect you in some way? And does it actually succeed?

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In many cases, our sense in response to that question is that resistance to reality is somehow attempting to help us. One way it does so is by offering a false sense of control. Accepting reality can seem like giving up, while resisting it might create the illusion that we can change what is. Yet, we may be surprised to find that, in the absence of resistance, we might find greater adaptability, deeper clarity and the capacity to make better choices – if there is such a thing as choice, something we will investigate in the next chapters.

Another way resistance tries to assist us is by shielding us from an unconscious fear of the unknown. There can be a subtle feeling that if I let go, something worse might happen. Letting go of resistance can seem risky, as if we’re leaving ourselves unprotected. But is that really the case? What risk is involved in experiencing things just as they are?

Perhaps the most common way resistance operates in us is by pushing us toward change. While discernment plays a crucial role in deciding whether we settle for less or move toward what truly aligns with us, resistance is different. Unlike discernment, which allows for clear choices, resistance imposes a sense of not enough onto how we experience the present moment, demanding that things be different before we can be at peace.

Though these movements—seeking control, protection, or change—may be well-intentioned attempts to improve our experience, they ultimately fail in one crucial way: they do nothing to change the present itself.

Another step in this inquiry would be to turn our primary question back onto the very habit of resisting: If we knew that resisting reality leads to suffering, would we consciously choose to do it?

For many people who have encountered this insight, the answer seems paradoxical. Even when there is intellectual clarity about the futility of resistance, we find ourselves falling into it again and again. So, who—knowing this—would consciously choose to resist?

Have you ever made a firm resolution within yourself, only to later catch yourself acting in a way that contradicts it? Whether it’s sticking to a diet, being kinder, more patient, more forgiving, or not losing your temper with your kids—have you ever noticed how, despite your best intentions, old patterns seem to take over? And when that happens, does it feel like a conscious decision? Or does the habit simply play itself out, as if operating on its own, without your explicit permission?

If no deliberate choice was involved, then a central part of this inquiry must be to understand where our habits truly come from.

 The conscious and unconscious patterns that shape our behavior—our conditioning—began forming long before we even knew our own names, and the process has never stopped since. From the way we were raised by our parents to our interactions with friends, school experiences, and the cultural values imposed by society, our actions are deeply influenced by the environment we grew up in and the experiences we have lived.

As it is now well established in neuroscience, most of these habits were picked up involuntarily, absorbed from our environment—especially at a very young age. Children's brains are naturally wired to mimic the behaviors, emotions, and reactions of those around them. This process goes beyond simply copying actions; it also involves absorbing emotional responses and internalizing core beliefs through repeated exposure.

How does it get passed on? Naturally, healthy parents would never deliberately choose to imprint behaviors on their children that do not serve their best interests. Yet, because so much of our behavior is reproduced unconsciously, these "undesirable" habits inevitably get passed down despite our best intentions.

As a practical example, child development psychologists suggest that if a parent consistently reacts to stress with anxiety or anger, the child unconsciously adopts this response as “normal” or “appropriate” to challenging situations. If given a choice, caregivers would naturally prefer to react differently—yet, without awareness of another possibility, the habit is unintentionally passed down.

Similarly, reinforcing certain behaviors can lead to unintended consequences. A child who gets attention for being “quiet and obedient” might unconsciously develop a habit of suppressing their own voice.

Even without direct reinforcement, circumstances themselves can shape a child’s worldview. For instance, a child who witnesses their parents struggling financially may internalize unconscious fears around money, even if no one explicitly teaches them to be afraid.

The fact is, we cannot pass on knowledge or information we haven’t received, nor can we model a healthy behavior we haven’t yet embodied ourselves. This is how certain “bad habits” persist across generations, unintentionally fueling suffering—without any deliberate choice ever being made.

But does that mean we’re powerless to change? Can’t we consciously break the habit? Can’t we transform these unhealthy patterns into healthier ones?

Let’s take Buddha’s advice as an example—the habit of resisting what is, which, as we explored earlier, leads to suffering. This tendency to feed discontentment or resistance is something we can eventually become aware of. And once we do, a choice seems to present itself: in the moment we recognize resistance arising, we appear to have the option to acknowledge that it is neither necessary nor useful. If it isn’t helping, then why continue to perpetuate it?

But in order to do that, one element is essential: being aware of it at the very moment it arises. Is there truly a choice in that?

Let’s explore a practical example from everyday life. Have you ever banged your head or stubbed your toe while walking inattentively? If you had been aware of the obstacle—a post, a piece of furniture, a step you didn’t see—would you have hit it? Probably not. Since you weren’t conscious of it, was there ever a real choice in the matter?

So, since suffering depends on our ability to recognize resistance as it happens, the question of whether suffering is a choice inevitably leads us to a much deeper inquiry:

Can we become conscious simply by our willingness to be so?

The answer to that doesn’t lie in philosophy or science but in our own direct experience. What do you find when you look within—beyond concepts and theories—into your most immediate and unfiltered inner knowing?

If you’re unsure, you might enjoy giving it a try in the next few days. Can you catch yourself in the act of resisting what is, as it’s happening? Or is it that, when you do notice it, you were already aware?