We can suffer or thrive in Imagination

“We suffer more often in imagination than in reality.” — Seneca

I imagined a conversation between two great minds separated by 2,000 years: Seneca, a Stoic philosopher of ancient Rome, and Gabor Maté, a modern trauma specialist. What insights might they share if they could meet across the centuries to discuss human suffering?

Seneca noted that humans tend to anticipate and catastrophize — imagining worst-case scenarios, dwelling on fear, and ruminating on things that aren’t actually happening.

And according to the Stoics, this causes far more distress than reality itself.

On the other hand, Gabor Mate might point out that our suffering is not imagined at all, but rooted in old wounds. A memory stored in the body that echoes into the present. Our nervous system learns early how to protect us: reading moods, interpreting silence, guessing danger. These survival strategies once kept us safe, but in the present, they can create unnecessary fear, pain, and misinterpretation.

Seneca might say that suffering lives in the mind. Gabor Maté might answer that it also lives in the body, carried as the imprint of old wounds. I believe both are true — together they show how imagination and memory shape our present experience. And if suffering can be imagined or triggered, then imagination can just as powerfully guide us toward healing and thriving.

So often, we react not to the world as it is but to the story we’ve learned to tell ourselves about it. Someone’s silence becomes rejection. A short message becomes proof we’re not valued. A forgotten reply feels like confirmation that we don’t matter. But what if their behavior has nothing to do with us? What if we’re interpreting the moment through old pain — a story formed long ago when we weren’t fully seen or safe?

The practice, both Seneca and Maté would agree, is awareness. Pause and ask yourself:

• Is this true?

• Is this happening now?

• Or is this my body remembering something it hasn’t yet healed?

  
  

In that space, suffering softens. The grip of imagination loosens. We meet the moment — and ourselves — with compassion instead of catastrophe.

Seneca’s ancient insight and Maté’s modern lens converge on the same truth: much of our inner distress comes from interpretation, not reality. Recognizing this allows us to self-regulate, integrate our experiences, and respond consciously rather than react from old patterns.

In a world full of notifications, social media comparisons, workplace stress, and parenting challenges, this practice is profoundly relevant. Freedom, resilience, and clarity come not from controlling life or suppressing feelings, but from noticing the difference between past and present, between story and fact, and choosing how we respond.

But there is still a missing dimension. We’ve explored the past and the present — what about the future?

If our mind can imagine suffering, it can also imagine thriving. Once we see clearly how past and present influence us, we can intentionally picture the life, actions, and relationships we want to cultivate. Then, imagination becomes not a trap, but a tool for growth.

Imagination isn’t only for suffering — it can be proactive, constructive, and growth-oriented. We can visualize positive outcomes, rehearse courage, and imagine creative solutions.

So, Set intentions and goals and take actions that will move you forward. See your potential, rehearse success, and imagine yourself already there.

Because the mind that sees its own possibilities shapes the life that follows.

Imagination, then, is not just a source of suffering — it’s a bridge to thriving. By understanding the past, grounding ourselves in the present, and envisioning the future, we can live with awareness, courage, and creativity.

We may suffer in imagination, yes — but we can also thrive, and even flourish, in it.