Go suffer at a camping festival

No, really

It was our fourth night in Legend Valley, and we were almost out of water back at our campsite. One member of our rave fam had filled the 20-liter water cube and lugged it back uphill to camp within hours of our arrival, but no one had braved the trek since. Instead, we were all rationing our water intake, following some unspoken rule—each of us falling victim to a scarcity mindset with every impulse to drink. 

My friend and I had returned early to camp, as I was in need of a good yap to mentally recover from Zeds Dead’s masterpiece of a set. We had been talking about suffering—as one does in hour eight of a twelve-hour trip after exorcising our demons and examining potential futures with the help of Zeds Dead—and whether you need to experience it to become a good person. 

Much ink has been spilled about the “problem of evil,” or the conundrum between believing in a loving, all-powerful God and seeing acts of evil in every time and place throughout our world. Granting human beings free will can solve this problem, as the choice between good and evil is then placed in our hands, rather than God’s. But this does not answer a slightly different, perhaps more interesting, question: Why does suffering exist outside human control? Why would a good God allow children to undergo cancer treatment? Why would a good God allow a hurricane to rip apart communities and drown living beings? Why would a good God abandon communities and ecosystems to the blight of a long drought? 

As we contemplated these questions, lounging in our camping chairs, we decided that suffering must be a necessary element in the creation of goodness, that special sauce that makes a human being kind, empathetic, and loving. When you dig deep with another person, one of those people who treats others with kindness and strives to contribute something positive to the world, you’ll often unearth a backstory of pain and suffering, ranging from canon events like childhood abuse, domestic violence, and unexpected deaths of cherished loved ones, to relatively more minor, chronic encounters with pain such as injuries and illness, bullying and social isolation, and strained relationships with family and friends. These good people have taken the pain and suffering of these experiences and turned them into tenderness, sensitivity, and warmth toward others, practiced as often as possible. (This is not to say that suffering always will help someone become good. The truism, “hurt people hurt people” holds more often than not.)

At a break in our conversation about pain and suffering, I felt a pang of thirst. We considered the deflated water cube and decided that enough was enough: it was time for us to suffer. We giggled the whole way down the hill, invigorated by our bold choice of pain when we could have instead chosen a second piece of cookie cake. Then, we arrived at the water refill station. After filling the water cube about two-thirds full and closing it, I lifted it and noted aloud that it wasn’t as heavy as I thought it would be. My friend looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Sounds like we can fit more water.” This set off round two of giggles, and we coaxed more water into the cube. This time, when we closed it, it was more than heavy enough. As I held the water cube, reality set in: this was not going to be easy.  

We shared the load as we began our journey back to camp, taking turns and making frequent stops. Near the top of the hill, a couple spotted us, and a kind gentleman asked if he could carry our water for a bit. We acquiesced, and he helped us complete the last leg of our hike. We had struggled a bit on our journey, but dopamine flowed through our brains upon our return: Accomplishment! Determination! Success! These good chemicals were amplified when the rest of our group returned and lavished their praise upon us; they had been talking on the way back about what a pain it would be to get water the next day. (Don’t you just love those little reminders from the universe that you’re on the right path?)

The next morning, as I waited in line for a smoothie after yoga (yes, I know, I have somehow become that girl), I eavesdropped on the group in front of me: a couple and their two friends. The couple looked exhausted: the girl’s eye makeup had ostensibly survived a fitful night of sleep, and both of their faces bore unhappy expressions. The couple left the line to find shelter from the sun’s rays, and the two friends shared concerns with each other. I jumped into their conversation (of course) and learned that it was the couple’s first festival, and it was not going well. They were struggling with the dirt, the lack of sleep, the tummy troubles, etc. The two friends felt guilty for bringing them along: they had hoped that the couple would have a good time, and the movie was not playing out that way. I asked if they had ever struggled at a camping festival, and their eyes lit up as they shared funny stories about the mishaps that had somehow become fond memories. Well, there you have it, I told them: maybe the couple would have a completely different view of this weekend once it was in the rearview mirror. Maybe a little pain and suffering would become a source of future joy—or at least amusement. 

A camping music festival might just be the perfect environment to learn how to alchemize your pain into joy: 

1. You will experience pain. Whether from dehydration, lack of sleep, unexpected weather, or dance-induced physical exhaustion, pain is inevitable under these conditions. 

2. Your pain will be accompanied by music, which will allow you to move through it and tell yourself a story about it. Our brains use stories to make meaning out of our experiences, and the story that you tell yourself can reshape this pain into something positive.  

3. You will be surrounded by a community of people who have been in your shoes before and want to help you. When you do receive aid in your moment of need, this will reinforce pathways in your brain that will motivate you to ask for help in the future. 

So, buy those tickets for the camping festival. Leave your comfort zone behind. And dance with your pain and suffering, letting the sensations and emotions flow through you until there’s nothing left but joy. 

Mia Arends loves writing and dancing—and thinks both are cosmically important. Follow her on Instagram, Threads, or Reddit.