We are living in a modern iteration of the Book of Revelations. Housing affordability, economic uncertainty, political turmoil, war, inequality and climate change have coalesced into what Edgar Morin has called the Polycrisis. The pressures of life can fracture our psyche and erode our wellbeing. This fractious state of affairs is the backdrop against which the stresses of work, relationships, finances, parenting, and studies play out with full force. The tension can reach a boiling point, leaving us bereft of poise and patience. Regarding the erosion of democratic norms and practices, social media has corroded public discourse. Misinformation and propaganda now parade as insight and free speech. Perhaps we know what needs to occur: a concerted effort to curb carbon emissions, a plan for economic revitalization, policies that distribute wealth more fairly, programs that provide affordable housing across all sectors of the market. Yet there are snags and obstacles at every turn. Opponents lurk everywhere. Progress seems impossible.
Dispute and contest are inherent features of society. A shared life is built on differences. Yet the differences can feel intractable, as if the challenge of togetherness demands more from us than we have to give. The social project imparts an ongoing sense of disappointment: we feel that other people should be better than they are, that they should understand things that we do. They ought to know better and do better. We want them to read more, to be better listeners, or more articulate in speech. More intelligent, less argumentative. More clear-minded, less emotional. More critical of what they encounter online, less distracted by frivolous content. The expansive list feeds into a perpetual discontent with humanity, a grievance inseparable from dissatisfaction with life itself.
More often than not, we feel that the world should be other than it is. This wish for a different state of affairs operates on two levels. One, there is a domain of life in which our ethical ideals serve as our compass. This is the relative realm of the normative, where we concern ourselves with what ought to be. We believe there are ways of living that are good, just, healthy, beautiful, and wholesome. We strive to actualize these ideals in our lives, both private and public. On another level, there is a part of us that struggles to register life in its totality. This is the realm of the ontological, where we grapple with the shape and texture of reality as a whole. On this level, we encounter our capacity to face life itself, exactly as it is. In a matter of speaking, this is the consciousness that contains our experience, the capacity to hold all experience within a space of equanimity. On the relative and ethical level, there are many things that I can justifiably oppose. On the second level, that there exists things that I oppose, and that this tension is an unavoidable part of life, indicates a need to face with serenity that which simply is.
Acceptance is a tricky word. With roots in the Latin acceptionem, which denotes “taking or receiving what is offered,” the word implies passivity and deference. We associate acceptance with resignation, a concession to what cannot be changed. Yet, a deeper acceptance of life is nothing of the sort. Acceptance does not condone what is ethically reprehensible. It is not a blind endorsement of the status quo. Rather, it is a thorough and unconditional embrace of reality, which includes both the objectionable and the necessity of our objection.
Recognizing the challenges facing humanity, Buddhist philosopher and teacher Joanna Macy once counselled herself to “fall in love with what is.” To love what is, we stand in clear recognition of the world’s flaws, but also understand that there is no other arena in which to wager a life of commitment. This recognition brings us to terms with the world in its present form, however broken, and fosters a willingness to face the situation with even-minded poise. This repose intensifies our ethical commitment to work toward change but also soothes an underlying vexation within that says, “I cannot live in a world like this one,” which stems from an aversion that impairs deeper engagement. We should always fight for a better world, but that cannot occur if we refuse to countenance what is.
There is a steadiness that distinguishes those who have stepped into maturity. This steadiness throws into relief others who chafe against life’s ebb and flow. There is something in each of us that defers the challenge of maturation. It is not a conscious expectation, though it functions like one. Rather, it is a subtle, diffuse, and constant assumption that life should be easier than it is. With this assumption in place, we continue to meet with disappointment and dissatisfaction. A setback registers as a personal injury. An illness feels like a hole in the cosmos. By contrast, those who have stepped further into adulthood seem to have relinquished every assurance of ease. At the very least, this assumption seems to falter within their operating parameters. Without the expectation that things be any easier, they are free to face the task at hand, minus the inner resistance and protest. Without inner resistance, suffering subsides. One becomes available to serve others.
Pain and difficulty are defining features of life. We cannot avoid them anymore than a swimmer can avoid getting wet. Avoidance intensifies our misery. Acceptance, in this sense, is not acquiescing to the unacceptable. It is about letting go of our resistance and aversion. When we no longer face reality through the armour of resistance, we encounter the possibility of meaning, movement, and growth. Pain is a crucible that burnishes character and refines wisdom.
We are all less than they could be. The world has always been broken, and always will be. Whether this sober recognition registers as a problem is a matter of inner work. The polycrisis signals a point in history, a moment when we see a bend in the long arc. Our collective fate appears bleak, but herein lies the opportunity that affords us a shift in consciousness. In times of crisis, we have the opportunity to define ourselves, to muster the virtues that we hold in high esteem, to act according to our aspirations. In navigating the crisis, we must first face with serenity that which disturbs us. Calmness, steadiness, constancy are our best guides. They provide unwavering support as we engage in the necessary work of repairing and rebuilding this broken world.