Pain Caves & Bringing More Light to the Walls

I'm embracing a new phrase and the truest thing I know about myself

It’s my birthday week, and I feel a deep melancholy. Since 2020, the week before and week of my birthday have surrounded me with an ache from a source I haven’t been able to name. This year, my pain is exacerbated by the chaos and uncertainty permeating our lives.

Instead of an expansive, hopeful path before us, the new year view feels restrictive. The path forward appears dark and narrow. The air feels suffocating.

I relate this collection of dark feelings to the phrase pain cave. The term wasn’t even in my vocabulary until a month ago, but now I can’t help but think it is what I need right now, not just to give context to the place I feel stuck but also to see a way through.

My 21-year-old daughter, Natalie, is the person who taught me this term. It came up right after she completed her first half ironman competition, which consisted of a 1.2-mile swim, 56 miles on the bike, and 13.1-mile run.

As grueling as it sounds (and was), training for this event brought purpose and joy to Natalie’s life after her college shut down and she made a difficult adjustment to a new university and life without swim team. Natalie told me she’d found the triathlete community to be welcoming and supportive, but I got to see it for myself at the half ironman competition in December.

After the race, a participant, who hadn’t even caught his breath, came up and thanked Natalie.

“Every time I saw you during the race,” he said between gulps of air, “you were smiling… and it kept me going.”

I’d noticed that smile too. As Natalie ran up the beach to the bike transition area after the swim, when she pedaled up a steep hill at the start of the cycling segment, and even when she had six miles left to run, she was smiling. I was both astonished and perplexed by it. A far more common expression was a grimace, which I saw on the faces of many triathletes as they pushed themselves beyond their limits.

“Ok, I have to know,” I said to Natalie as soon as we got settled in the car after the race. “How was it that you appeared to be enjoying yourself while others looked like they were in severe distress?”

Without hesitation, Natalie explained, “You saw people encountering their pain cave. I experienced my pain cave several times during my training period. I prepared this way so I could take in the race experience. Today I just felt so happy to be out there.”

I had never heard of a pain cave and wanted to know more. Natalie described it as the place you go when you hit a wall while doing something physically challenging.

“Your body feels immobile; everything is cemented to the ground — and mentally, every inch of you wants to quit,” she explained.

Natalie reminded me of her Saturday “brick workouts” (a workout that includes two disciplines, like cycling a significant distance followed by a long-distance run). I remember one such workout that took place on an extremely cold day. Thoughts of not finishing the grueling regime entered Natalie’s mind, but she willed herself to keep going. Although she felt “every step of those ten miles,” Natalie pushed through the wall and came out on the other side knowing just what she was capable of.

I don’t know if the phrase pain cave can be applied to experiences outside physical activity, but I have decided to use it – along with this powerful photo of young Natalie in Hawaii – to help me push through the wall of despair I am feeling right now.

Of the things I value most in life, love, acceptance, honesty, and integrity are at the top of the list. And right now, I feel like our society is suffering from a deficit in these commodities. I feel a deep disconnect with people I thought I knew and shared these same values.

It feels as if our collective moral compass is so off course that we have landed ourselves in a very dark, painful place—

…where actions that once seemed outrageous and inhumane are now seen as acceptable, even celebrated.

…where basic human decency and integrity no longer seem to matter.

…where self-interest flourishes while the collective good suffers.

The discomfort I feel in this place makes me want to turn away, which I am aware will draw me deeper into isolating darkness and further away from humanity.

I don’t want to do that.

I know I must orient myself towards what little light I can find; I must bring forth what little light I can give.

In this spirit, I decided to decorate my porch for Valentine’s Day. Yes, it is still January. And yes, we are experiencing subzero temperatures, but I don’t think it can wait until February.

The other day, I set out my L❤️VE sign and “one in a million” welcome mat. Then I filled a basket of Valentine snacks for delivery workers and hung an adorable pink fabric heart on my door.

My intention was to make a statement to the world – that my house is one of love, acceptance, inclusion, and kindness – but something interesting happened. I quickly noticed the heart wreath is most illuminated from inside the house. I feel a lift inside my soul every single time I walk by it.

Perhaps my efforts on the porch were not just for the outside world; perhaps they were for the inside world, my inside world, reminding me that I must keep stoking my light as the pain cave around me threatens to snuff it out.

My friends, I refuse to let this painful wall I’ve encountered stop me from doing what I set out to do at the age of seven when I spent recess teaching an ostracized boy how to read. I wanted to make the hate towards him stop. Love is who I am, and love is what I stand for, and I will not stop.

Might you consider joining me? Perhaps if you have this same determination, we can stoke the inner fires of one another when we feel our lights dimming.

This is what Natalie did when there were only a few miles to go in the half ironman. She noticed a fellow competitor, who’d been pretty much beside her the whole race, slow to a stop and hang his head.

Turning her body towards him as she ran, she looked directly into his eyes.

“You didn’t come this far to walk now…” she encouraged. “You can do this… keep going.”

A look of recognition came over the triathlete’s face as if Natalie’s words touched something he knew about himself deep down inside.

“Thank you,” the breathless man managed to say as he resumed his run. “That was what I needed.”

By facing her pain caves prior to the race, Natalie could serve as a guiding light to those facing their wall, unsure of how to keep going.

Natalie was the light bringer – not because she didn’t experience the pain too – but because she had gotten to the other side before and wanted to make sure other people knew they could too.

This is who I want to be in the world.

I’ve known this about myself for over five decades – 53 years to be exact – as I celebrate another trip around the sun on January 24, 2025.

I won’t stop now.

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🌳❤️ One of the best parts of Rachel’s Treehouse is our monthly live gatherings. I begin each session doing something I love (teaching) and end with something that keeps me going (connecting with you). Afterwards, we all exhale and say, “that was just what I needed.”

Friends, I think we are going to need each other a lot this year, and I have some truly restorative plans for our treehouse gatherings in 2025. If you are not a paid subscriber and would like to climb the treehouse ladder and attend live and/or watch the replays, you can upgrade your subscription for the price of a monthly coffee.

🪜🩷SAVE THE DATE: Our next treehouse gathering is Sunday, February 2nd at 4pm Eastern. My teaching segment will be recorded and sent to paid subscribers for those unable to attend live. Zoom link coming next week!

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🌱 In case you haven’t heard… I am holding JUST one Soul Shift retreat in 2025. It is happening March 7-9 at the highly acclaimed Kripalu Center in the mountain vistas of Berkshire, MA. The curriculum and pace of my March workshop will facilitate a gentle transition from winter❄️ to spring🌼—slower, reflective, with space for both rest and renewal. You’ll be given space to reconnect—both to yourself and to the natural world—and leave feeling refreshed, grounded, and equipped to nourish yourself and grow strong, no matter how unstable the world feels. Come by yourself. Come with a friend. Come as you are. I can’t wait to be with you.

*Registration starts at $622 and includes accommodations, meals, and tuition for your entire stay. Click here for all the details.

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⭐️ One last thing…. as I encourage Natalie in this clip, please allow me to also encourage you. Keep going.