When the Heart Breaks Open: A Meditation on Tonglen & Finding Connection Through Pain
Like many people, I started meditating to find peace—to quiet my wild monkey mind and detach from my racing thoughts and emotions. For a while, I thought that's what meditation was supposed to be: pushing away discomfort, observing from a distance, staying calm and collected.
Then life broke me open. In the last couple of years, I went through the worst possible tragedy. My heart was shattered, and the pain was too large to push away. Trying to detach from it felt not just impossible, but wrong. Like I was betraying myself and was being inauthentic.
The Practice That Changed Everything
That's when I found Tonglen in Pema Chödrön's book When Things Fall Apart—which felt like the perfect title for my life at that moment. Tonglen is a Tibetan Buddhist practice that means "giving and taking," and it does something that sounds completely backwards: instead of pushing pain away, you breathe it in.
On the in-breath, you take in darkness and pain. On the out-breath, you send out relief and compassion. I'll admit, it sounded crazy at first. Why would I intentionally breathe in more suffering when I was already drowning in it?
But here's what happened. When I sat with my pain—really sat with it, breathing it in and falling into the dark abyss—I suddenly felt everyone else who was going through the same thing. I wasn't alone in this. Others were feeling this too, maybe even worse. I started breathing in not just my pain, but the pain of everyone experiencing similar loss. And when I breathed out relief, I sent it to all of us.Something shifted. My broken heart, which felt so raw, somehow expanded. It could hold more than just my own grief—it could hold the grief of the world. And paradoxically, that made my own pain feel less isolating, less unbearable.
Two Responses to Heartbreak
When your heart breaks, you have a choice. You can do what I tried at first: build walls, disconnect, protect yourself from ever being hurt again. I built those walls high. I thought if I couldn't feel the pain, I'd be safe.
But here's the problem: when you push away pain, you also push away joy. I found myself needing bigger and bigger happy events just to feel anything—like developing a tolerance to a drug. Small pleasures didn't register anymore. My dog licking my feet? Nothing. A beautiful sunset? Meh.
Through Tonglen, I learned something different. Happiness and pain are two sides of the same coin. If you can't feel one, you can't fully feel the other. When I stopped running from my pain and started sitting with it, the small joys came back. Now I can hold my dog close to my chest and feel overwhelming gratitude. Not because anything changed externally, but because I stopped numbing myself.
I also learned to give myself the same compassion I naturally extend to others. Compassion isn't self-pity—it's love and kindness toward yourself. That distinction changed everything.
Take 10 minutes to hear Pema Chödrön introduce Tonglen in her own words. If you're drawn to the practice, here's a link to her full 45-minute YouTube talk.
An Invitation
I'm actually grateful now for what broke me. I never thought I'd say that, but it's true. That pain cracked my self-imposed crusty heart.
Next time you're going through something difficult, try Tonglen. Feel the negative emotions instead of running from them. Recognize that others are feeling this too—you're part of something bigger. Then breathe out calmness and compassion to everyone who's struggling, including yourself.
Your broken heart isn't something to hide or fix. It's an opening. And when you let it break all the way open, you might be surprised by how much love and connection it can hold.
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