Choose Freedom?

Acceptance and Aspiration

You are perfect just as you are, and there’s room for improvement.

—Shunryu Suzuki

The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.

—Carl Rogers

The moment you completely accept your non-peace, your non-peace becomes transmuted into peace… This is the miracle of surrender.

– Eckhart Tolle

The Dance of Acceptance and Aspiration:

My last post was about being okay with myself and the world just as we all are. That okay-ness is profoundly liberating, and paradoxically, that complete acceptance can be the ground from which genuine transformation most reliably arises. I once heard Gangaji say to someone who was trying to quit smoking and who clearly felt that this was a terrible habit, “When you’re free to smoke, then you’re free to stop.” That’s very much what Carl Rogers was saying in the quote from him above. Accepting what is, as it is seems to open up possibilities previously unavailable. Resistance drops away. Something relaxes.

Of course, some of our so-called “bad habits” may never go away, so the pathless path of awakening here-now is not about arriving at some idealized human perfection. The nondual spirituality that interests me isn’t about being cleansed and purified of all our "faults," but it also recognizes that this unfathomable whole includes evolutionary development and the ability to identity things that bring forth suffering and to respond intelligently, at least sometimes, rather than simply reacting out of conditioned habit.

This evolving response-ability (or ability to respond) is a natural process, just as the evolution of the whole universe is a natural process. Our apparent urges, aspirations and choices are part of how all this happens. There is in most of us a natural desire to heal, to fix what is broken, and to undo patterns that bring forth suffering. But we often go about this in a way that only reinforces the root problem.

In my last book, Death: The End of Self-Improvement, I have a chapter distinguishing self-improvement and curative fantasies from genuine transformation and wholesome aspiration. Self-improvement, as I’m using the term, is result-oriented, future-focused, and driven by thought. It’s all about "me,” the character in the story of my life, and it assumes that this character, which is only a mental image and a bunch of thoughts, has agency and choice in a way it actually does not. This kind of self-improvement is rooted in a sense of lack and deficiency, a sense that what is, is not okay and that something more, better or different is needed. As many of us have discovered, it is often the very act of seeking what we believe is missing that makes us miserable.

On the other hand, what I’m calling wholesome aspiration and genuine transformation is rooted in presence (here-now-being) and in a much bigger sense of what I am and what this whole happening is—i.e., boundless, seamless, infinite, unresolvable, undefinable, evanescent, free of anything fixed—in contrast to the apparently separate, divided up, encapsulated, bound, limited, definable and solidified perspective that underlies self-improvement. Wholesome aspiration and genuine transformation begin with the total acceptance of what is rather than with resistance and rejection. They move from awareness, rather than from thought, and they recognize the perfection of the whole and the way everything belongs. Awareness might be described as unconditional love, for it accepts everything as it is and clings to nothing. Thought divides and abstracts; awareness is whole and immediate.

Of course, as I point out in the book, some degree of dissatisfaction with how things are now, along with some vision of how they could be better, is often essential. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have had a civil rights movement and no one would bother to get physical therapy for an injury, seek help recovering from an addiction, or even take an aspirin for a headache. But in any moment of doing such things, our attention needs to be primarily on right here, right now. Life itself accepts everything unconditionally, including the headaches, the addictions and the social injustices, and it also accepts the aspirin, the recovery programs and the movements for social change. It’s all what is.

When I underwent treatment for cancer some years back, I didn’t feel that I was fighting cancer, as some people seem to feel. I felt that having this cancer was part of this life in some way, and that life itself was responding to the cancer with surgery, chemotherapy and radiation. During the months of treatment, the attention was primarily on here-now, enjoying my connections with all the medical people and the other patients, enjoying the drive to and from the treatment sessions, dealing with the pain and other challenges in whatever ways I was moved to do in each moment—being the whole happening as it unfolded.

We think of time as linear, but it can be noticed that it’s actually one bottomless moment here-now. In other words, whatever form it momentarily takes, it’s all this aware presence showing up in myriad endlessly different ways.

I am profoundly grateful that the cancer treatment worked. I am profoundly grateful that I sobered up from near-fatal alcoholic drinking and heavy drug use back in the early 1970s. I’m deeply grateful that I've been with some marvelous teachers, that I was able to do many silent retreats, that I studied Feldenkrais and martial arts, that I've had some great therapists. I meditate, stretch and exercise every day because it helps this bodymind stay healthy, balanced and functional, to whatever degree it is and can be.

At the same time, I don't have the idea that my drunken life was “bad” and my sober life is “good,” or that cancer is something “bad” and that being cancer-free is “good.” I see ALL these shapes that reality takes as equally important and inseparable aspects of life. I don’t have the idea that I’m a spiritual failure because my fingerbiting compulsion and my anger still show up at times. It’s all included in this wave called Joan and this waving universe.

There are abundant examples of people who were very awake in some ways and yet still had destructive habits and human imperfections. Alan Watts was an alcoholic. Nisargadatta was addicted to cigarette smoking and frequently yelled at people. Peter Brown described himself as "neurotic." Chögyam Trungpa was an alcoholic who engaged in sexual misconduct with his students. His successor, Ösel Tendzin, engaged in unprotected sex with students while knowing he was HIV positive. Nathan Gill suffered from depression and committed suicide. And, of course, many great sages and teachers have died of cancer.

Were these people enlightened or unenlightened, good or bad, fortunate or unfortunate? We can't really say because no person is ever the same for even an instant, nor does any person exist independently of the whole. People are like waves or whirlpools; they aren’t static or autonomous. The apparently good and the apparently bad aspects of each of us, and of life itself, go together in an unfathomable, interdependent way as one whole indivisible happening. As in the famous old Chinese farmer story, we can't determine what is good fortune or bad fortune. Watts's alcoholism and Trungpa’s misconduct were in some way inseparable from their wisdom, just as my fingerbiting compulsion, my anger, and my drunken past are all inseparable in some way from whatever wisdom and compassion occasionally shows up here.

That doesn’t mean I have no interest in leaving certain things behind. I would very much like to be free of my fingerbiting compulsion. I’d also like to able to talk to people I disagree with in an open way without getting triggered and becoming angry and defensive. And I often fail. I bite my fingers, and I lose my temper. It happens. I’ve found that I cannot will either of these undesirable behaviors away on command. But the interest and the aspiration is there to let them go whenever that is possible. And at the same time, there is an acceptance of the ways this isn’t always possible. Sometimes I’m angry and defensive and sometimes I’m generous and compassionate, and there is a recognition that all of this is impersonal weather inseparable from the whole. In that sense, everything is perfect just as it is, including the apparent mistakes and horrors of life.

Can we choose freedom?

Your suffering is your own activity. It is something that you are doing moment to moment....You will continue to pursue every kind of means until you realize that all you are doing is pinching yourself. When you realize that, you just take your hand away. There is nothing complicated about it. But previous to that, it is an immensely complicated problem... The self is just like this clenched fist. Relax the fist and there is nothing inside... We are never at any moment in the dilemma we fear ourselves to be.

– Adi Da

Over the years, I’ve heard a number of teachers say, “Choose freedom.” How do we respond to such a suggestion? If we believe that there is no free will, or no one to have free will, we might insist that such a choice is not possible. Or, if we do believe in free will, we might insist that it is possible. But what if we drop all our preconceived ideas, beliefs and conclusions and simply approach this as an open question to explore anew in any moment when it seems as if we are stuck, limited or bound? In such a moment, maybe we can ask and openly wonder whether it is possible, right now in this moment—not in every moment for all time, but right now in this moment—to “take our hand away” as Adi Da says, to choose freedom, to open and let go?

Instead of thinking about this question analytically and relying on past experiential insights, experiences or beliefs, what if instead we ask it freshly, in this moment, as a completely new question, without knowing what the answer might be, open to being surprised? How does this question act on us? What possibility does it open up for us? What responsibility (response-ability, ability to respond) is here right now in this present aliveness? How are we metaphorically pinching ourselves, and is it possible, right now, to “take our hand away,” to open and let go?

There is something right here that has the capacity to act. Calling it “something” is almost certainly misleading because whatever “this” is, it’s not any solid, findable or pindownable thing. When we look, no entity can be found inside our head sitting at a giant control panel calling the shots. And yet there seems to be an undeniable ability right here to act. And it seems that there is a capacity here to make choices.

Sometimes, it seems that we are pulled in two different directions by opposing forces or conflicting thoughts, each claiming to be “the real me.” Is “the real me” the fingerbiter or the one who wants to stop? Or are they both just thoughts?

Is all our behavior and thinking purely mechanical and conditioned, the inevitable result of infinite causes and conditions that could not be otherwise, or is there an unconditioned dimension that is free, a dimension of infinite potential and possibility? Is everything unfolding in linear time as it seems to be, or is it all happening in a simultaneous present or presence, and is this presence already finished, or is it a breaking wave, a big bang in every instant?

Choice implies consciousness – a high degree of consciousness. Without it, you have no choice. Choice begins the moment you disidentify from the mind and its conditioned patterns, the moment you become present. Until you reach that point, you are unconscious, spiritually speaking. This means you are compelled to think, feel, and act in certain ways according to the conditioning of your mind… Presence is the key. The Now is the key.

—Eckhart Tolle

In other words, true power and response-ability isn’t in the thinking mind posing as the imaginary “me.” The real power is in presence-awareness, which is not other than this bodymind person right here, but it isn’t limited to or owned by that. And in fact, any idea or mental image we have of “the body” or “the mind” or “the person” is simply a concept or an imagination and not the living actuality.

When someone says that “our suffering is our own activity,” or that “all psychological suffering is completely unnecessary,” as various teachers and nondualists have said, what happens? What I’ve noticed is that often there is an immediate reaction against this. Something feels threatened by such an assertion. That’s why posing it as an open question can sometimes be more effective and less likely to immediately provoke the me-identified thinking mind into indignantly insisting, “If I could choose freedom, I would! But I can’t!” We might wonder, who is asserting all this? Who feels threatened? What is being defended? Is it the open aware presence or the little contracted me?

It's fascinating to see how the mind will argue against the possibility of letting go, how it will defend and argue for the necessity and inescapable inevitability of our suffering and our story. I’ve found, to my surprise, that in some way, we are often quite attached to our suffering and to the stories that provoke and sustain it. They are part of our identity. They’re familiar. They’re ME. The thought of opening the metaphorical clenched fist of the self and finding nothing at the center can feel scary. But when it actually happens, it’s not scary at all. It’s a huge relief! At least, until the survival mind kicks in and starts putting out worried thoughts and trying to get a grip. Then we scurry back into the apparent safety of the world as we think we know it. And none of this opening and closing is personal—it’s ALL an unfolding of the whole universe.

So, I’m with Suzuki Roshi: we’re perfect just as we are, and there’s room for improvement. It’s a delicate dance between acceptance and aspiration. It’s enormously liberating to recognize how we do our suffering, how we pinch ourselves, beholding it with awareness, without getting lost in judgment, shame, guilt and regret. In the light of awareness, old habits can lose their grip and eventually dissolve. Things can open up. Sensitivity and insight can grow. But sometimes the power of habit is very strong and “choosing freedom” doesn’t seem to work. In such a moment, the ability isn’t there. And then in other moments, the ability is there. And we can’t really say which is success and which is failure. They go together like up and down and cannot exist independently of one another.

Can we learn any of this from teachers, teachings or practices?

In my experience, yes! But that doesn’t mean any of these are essential. This living reality is never not here. We can’t get this because we are this. This is all there is. But we tend to think otherwise. We mistake our conceptual maps for the experiential living territory. We imagine a world where ‘up’ is at war with ‘down,’ and we want ‘up’ to triumph and permanently defeat ‘down.’ Such mistaken ideas can be exposed and pointed out by good teachers and teachings, and the nondual living reality can be discovered, revealed and realized in ever new ways through various practices or explorations.

Where I have found real value in spiritual and nondual teachings, teachers or expressions is when they point relentlessly to right here, right now, and to the okay-ness of what is, just as it is; and/or when they point out and help me to see or experience aspects, dimensions or qualities of this present happening that I wasn't seeing or fully experiencing; and/or when they help me to see the habitual patterns of thought that are creating unnecessary suffering. I've been lucky to have had some extraordinary teachers of this kind in the form of both people and books.

Those teachers, teachings and expressions that have been most helpful always encouraged open exploration—looking for myself, attending to direct experience rather than to ideology and belief, being open to new discoveries. They never claimed to be infallible authorities. They never gave me the sense that I lacked something, but instead, they saw me as a perfect expression of life, just exactly as I am. And they also recognized that this present perfection did not in any way preclude the possibility that I could learn and grow in sensitivity, insight, response-ability, endurance and faith in myself and the totality. I hope this is the kind of expression that I, too, am offering.

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New book from John Astin:

John is one of my top favorite writers and speakers on the nondual wholeness of reality and the unresolvable, unpindownable nature of experience. He is a friend and also someone who definitely fits the description above of the kind of expression that is truly helpful. I love the title of this book. It is available on Amazon as both a paperback or a kindle. Very highly recommended.

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My holiday plans and a word of gratitude:

As I do every year, I’ll be taking roughly a week over New Year’s and the first week of January to be on a silent, solitary retreat at home. I won’t be putting out another Substack until probably the second week in January.

I want to wish all of you happy holidays and the best possible New Year. And whatever unfolds in this coming year, don’t forget the old Chinese farmer story and the way nothing is ever what we think it is.

I also want to thank all of you who have sent in donations this year, and all of you who send monthly donations. Your generosity is deeply appreciated. I’m also immensely grateful to all my readers for your listening presence, your comments, and your being here with me on this journey from here to here. I truly couldn’t do any of it without all of you.

And if you’d like to make a donation, there is a “donate” link on my Substack home page and a donate button on my website home page.

Happy Solstice!

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Love to all…