The Purpose of Pain
I picked up a small clove of garlic from the cutting board and held it between the fingertips of my right hand while I narrowed my eyes and aimed a knife to its back with my left hand. The sharp edge of the knife sunk into the juicy body of the garlic, but as it pushed down further to halve it, both my hands dropped what they were holding and my feet rushed me to the kitchen sink. I let the running water from the tap wash the fresh cut the knife had created on the tip of my finger, and a tiny splotch of red appeared on its surface. Then I rushed to find a clean cloth which I wrapped around the bleeding finger. All of this happened as if my body had gone into 'Auto' mode, my mind hardly processing what was happening. When I finally did get the chance the sit down (and quieten my husband who was yelling at me in panic), I thought about the pain that had triggered my actions over the last few minutes. What is the purpose of pain, anyway? Doesn't it sound li