Facing Pain, Finding Peace: Healing Without Spiritual Bypassing

“When we suffer, we tend to want to run away from our suffering. But if we can take one mindful breath and say ‘Hello, my little suffering, I know you are there’, we are already practicing love.”
— Thich Nhat Hanh

Holding Two Truths

There’s a book that changed my life: Touching Peace by Thich Nhat Hanh. It helped me bridge the deep wisdom I’d found in Eastern spiritual traditions with the grounded, evidence-based world of Western psychology. For a long time, I felt like I had to choose between the two—and neither felt quite complete on its own.

While I was drawn to the calm and clarity of spiritual teachings, I often felt uneasy with how some of them seemed to disconnect from the pain of real life. I can't count how many times I’ve heard someone say that suffering isn't real—that it’s all just an illusion. That can sound comforting at first, but it’s also a way of avoiding reality.

This phenomenon has a name: spiritual bypassing. It’s when we use spiritual ideas to sidestep our uncomfortable thoughts and emotions, rather than face them with honesty and care.

And honestly—who wouldn’t want to escape the messiness of being human? Pain hurts. Life can feel heavy. It’s tempting to believe it’s all just a dream. But the cost of denying our wounds is often greater than simply feeling them. As the psychologist Carl Jung said:

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”

Acknowledging Pain Without Getting Lost in It

I’ve had profound transcendent spiritual experiences—times of awe and expansion that showed me without doubt that there’s more to this life than what we can see or touch. And still, I’ve also worked in community services, walked beside hundreds of people in immense pain, and felt the weight of my own grief and loss.

There’s no shortcut around suffering. But there is a way to relate to it differently. A way to meet it gently, to sit with it, and to allow it to transform us without being consumed by it.

The practice is not about denying the hurt—it’s about bringing it into the light. When we face our pain with compassion, we create space for healing. And when we hold our pain in one hand, we can still hold beauty, joy, and meaning in the other.

This is what Thich Nhat Hanh taught me—to hold both the very real sorrow of life, and the quiet mystery that can give us strength and hope. He taught me that we can act with love and courage in the world and stay rooted in something larger than ourselves.

The Sacred Space Between

I have deep reverence for what I call the Great Mystery—the space between each breath, the stillness that holds us even when life feels like chaos. And I also know that magic doesn’t only happen on a mountaintop or during meditation. It happens right in the messy middle—when we’re in the therapy room, knee-deep in our own grief, confusion, or healing.

Magic is not reserved for pristine lakes. Sometimes, it shows up while we’re wading through the swamp.

Interested in Working Together?

My work as a therapist is deeply inspired by these teachings. I offer integrative psychotherapy that honours both the science of psychology and the soulfulness of being human. If you’re curious about themes like love, grief, loss, joy, meaning, and the very real messiness of life—I would love to hear from you.

This work is sacred to me. If you feel called to explore your inner world with support, I’d love to hear from you.