Expectations, Acceptance and Serenity

". . . (A)cceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation - some fact of my life - unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, or thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens in God's world by mistake. Until I could accept my alcoholism, I could not stay sober; unless I accept life completely on life's terms. I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in me and in my attitudes."

 The paragraph, above, on "acceptance" (from Acceptance is the Answer, p. 417) is likely the most familiar quote from the personal stories in the back of the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous. I have read it discussed it, and have heard it discussed in countless meetings. And, yet, as important a message as it is, in recent weeks I have been reflecting on the following simple spiritual calculus that the author includes on the last page of his story (page 420):

• ". . . (M)y serenity is inversely proportional to my expectations."

• ". . . (M)y serenity is directly proportional to my level of acceptance."

 The more expectations I have for how people, circumstances and the world should behave, the less serenity I will have, as only God is omniscient. On the other hand, the more acceptive I am of how the people, circumstances and the world change around me, the more serenity I have.

To me, this is the personal manifestation of the second part of Step One, the admission that life has become (and remains) unmanageable by me. In fact, it always was unmanageable by my efforts, but wholly managed in its totality. Thus, I was continually disturbed precisely because all my efforts to shape people, things and circumstances to the way I thought they should be almost always backfired. People, circumstances and the world continued to evolve in the most unexpected (to me) ways. Only grudgingly and belatedly would I reconcile myself to those changes, but with the caveat that I would then have new set of expectations as to how people and the world should behave in these new found  circumstances. On and on this non-virtuous circle drove me through life.

The gist of the spiritual calculus laid out by the author illustrates how expectations and acceptance are really opposite sides of a coin. The greater my expectations, the less accepting I am, and the less serenity I have. The more accepting I am, the fewer expectations I have, and the more serene I am.

"Mastery of life," Eckhart Tolle once observed, "is the opposite of control." Such mastery, I might add, lies in the acceptance of life without expectations.

Anger: A "Dubious Luxury"

"If we were to live, we had to be free of anger. The grouch and the brainstorm were not for us. They may be the dubious luxury of normal men, but for alcoholics these things are poison."

-- Alcoholics Anonymous, page 66 --

There is, perhaps, no stronger emotion than anger. Fueled by fear, it takes over the individual's mind and body. The option of flight, of turning the other cheek, goes out the window and it is, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Anger is, thus, the ultimate weapon that the ego wields to capture the unwary individual. And once the monster of anger is set in motion it is virtually impossible to arrest the inevitable blow up.

One could liken the individual's struggle with anger to the struggle with a python. One struggles to get out of its grasp, yet the more one struggles the more the beast tightens its coils until it is literally suffocating.

But why is anger so damaging? Why is it pointed out as the most dangerous of our character defects? Why in our moral inventory are resentments the first thing we deal with?

We read in the 'Doctor's Opinion' that alcoholics are "restless irritable and discontent unless they can again experience the the sense of comfort and ease that comes at once by taking a few drinks - drinks that they see others taking with impunity." When gripped by anger or resentment (which is simply the anger we hold onto over time), the feelings of "irritability, restlessness and discontnet" are incalculably multiplied. The alcoholic addict, if he cannot overcome his anger (or does not strike back at the object of his anger, which is inadvisable) is almost certain to drink and/or use drugs to get rid of the emotional maelstrom that anger engenders.

So how, then, does one deal with anger? Perhaps the answer lies in the quotation from the 'Big Book' of Alcoholics Anonymous, above. If we can recognize anger before it is activated, when it is still either just a "grouch" or a "brainstorm" it is possible for us to deal with anger mindfully. Once our resentments are stoked like a fire, however, the inferno of full-blown anger is nearly impossible to smother.

Our first line of defence against anger is, thus, in listing our resentments in our Fourth Step inventory. When we write down who and what still angers us, identify what causes our resentments, and examine how they affect us, we are then in a position to see the role that we, ourselves, played in past instances of anger. We see that almost inevitably our actions, to some degree or other, have brought on the behaviour that seems to have been directed against us. Knowing, then, that we have been at least in part responsible for how the world treats us, we begin to treat the world itself more charitably. Life is not as serious as our egos make it out to be.

Our second and ultimate line of defense is a reliance on our Higher Power to shape and order our world. Thus, we read in the Third Step essay in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions that "in all times of emotional disturbance or indecision. we can pause, ask for quiet and in the stillness simply say: "God grant me the serenity to acceptthe things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Thy will not mine be done."

The God of our own understanding is the serenity that allows us to accept the things we cannot change. And who amongst us can change a single outside thing in the moment it takes to say this prayer? The only thing which we can instantaneously change is the state of our consciousness and being. Serenity, is thus the ability to tap into the "unsuspected inner resource" each of us has buried beneath our egoic self-consciousness. Realizing this, we ask for the courage (from the Latin cour meaning 'heart') to go to this deeper, higher consciousness. And, finally, we ask for the wisdom to know that there is a clear difference between our egoic self-consciousness and its cauldrom of fears and desires, and the higher God-consciousness of peace and quiet.

Anger is thus the "dubious luxury" of so-called "normal people." To the extent that they can sustain their anger, so much the better (or the worse) for them; but we need not suffer. Clearing away the wreckage of old resentments allows us the psychic room to effectively utilize the "spiritual toolkit" we learn in sobriety, knowing that "this too shall pass" - albeit quickly or slowly. And, if that is so, why not let it pass quickly?

Expectations, Anger and Resentments

Anger and fear - in fact all my character defects - seem to be inversely proportional to the expectations I have for myself, for others, and for life in general. In this, I do not think I am alone.

My egoic thinking has constant expectations about how circumstances should and will unfold, despite a lifetime of experience to the contrary; and my self-centered, egoic thoughts about what I am convinced is happening, or is about to happen, give rise to the emotional upheavals characteristic of my defects of character. Thus it is the thoughts of the ego that lead to the feelings of restlessness, irritability and discontent that characterize the alcoholic addict in the throes of his or her disease.

It is precisely to the extent that I continue to identify with my ego, or smaller "self," and thereby continue to harbour such expectations, that I suffer. And if such thinking persists over time, fears grow into phobias, desires grow into entitlements, and anger turns into seething resentments. If I am to be free, I must be free of this selfish, self-centered egoic thinking that is the root of all my problems.

But how is such a shift in the focus of my thinking to come about? First, by truly admitting that life is unmanagable by any individual. Second, by truly turning my will and life over to the care of God, and leaving it there. And, third, by accepting that life is unfolding exactly the way in which it is. For, as the emperor-philosopher Marcus Aurelius observed: "To argue with what is is insanity; and yet, the thoughtless can seldom refrain from doing so."

It is precisely at this point that the well-known passage on "acceptance" is invaluable.

"(A)cceptance," we read, "is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation - some fact of my life - unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens in God's world by mistake. Until I could accept my alcoholism, I could not stay sober; unless I accept life completely on life's terms, I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in me and in my attitudes."

[Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th ed., p. 417.]

Acceptance of life on life's terms is thus directly proportional to my serenity and peace of mind, just as my expectations are inversely proportional to my egoic, self-centered malaise. Therefore, the old question arises: "Do I want to be right, or do I want to be happy?" What will I strive for acceptance, or the fulfillment of my expectations?

The answer should be clear to anyone who has long suffered the unchecked turmoil of his or her character defects. Acceptance, brings the freedom, hope and love which is the grace of God; expectations breed the anger and despair which is "the bondage of self."

Worry and Fear vs. Serenity and Acceptance

"(A)cceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation - some fact of my life - unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing happens in God's world by mistake. Until I could accept my alcoholism, I could not stay sober; unless I accept life completely on life's terms, I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in me and my attitudes."

[Alcoholics Anonymous, page 417.]

The opposite of acceptance is, of course, defiance - and we are told that defiance is "an outstanding trait of the alcoholic" - but the product of acceptance is serenity. It's opposite is calamity and fear, and the effect of egoic, calamitous thinking is to obscure the Ground of our Being and thus prevent us from establishing a conscious contact with the God of our understanding. But how do we practice this seemingly radical acceptance of every person, place, thing or situation in our life?

A starting place for acceptance, and thus serenity, is in the practice of Step Three. "In all times of emotional disturbance or indecision," we read in The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, "we can pause, ask for quiet, and in the stillness simply say: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Thy will, not mine, be done."

[The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 41.]

Why does this simple prayer seem to work so effectively? First and foremost, it seems to work because the fear, worry and anxiety - all emotions that are symptomatic of our being lost once again "in the bondage of self" - are, practically speaking, useless in addressing whatever 'problem' we are facing. It is a spiritual truism, as Einstein once famously remarked, that we cannot solve our problems with the same level of thinking that got us there in the first place.

Consider the following objective schematic of our thinking process:

"Serenity" is the fruit of a conscious contact with a Power greater than "self," greater than our conditioned way of egoic thinking which is rooted in fear and desire. In stopping, pausing and asking for quiet, we release ourselves from the bondage of self and attain to the higher state of consciousness and being (some call it God-consciousness) that always lies just beneath the ego. God thus grants us "the serenity to accept the things (we) cannot change." If, as the diagram shows, we have a problem in our life, and we cannot do something about it, then we should not worry about it.

Next we ask for the "courage to change the things (we) can." The word "courage" comes from the French and Latin "cour" meaning "heart." "Heart" is of course a metaphor for the higher consciousness that is obscured but attainable by all people. Thus, the first and most important thing that we can change, is the level of our thinking, raising it from the egoic plane of "self" to the holisitc plane of Higher Being. If we have a problem, and we can do something about it, raising our consciousness to this holistic state of consciousness and being is the first thing we need to do. Having done so, as the diagram illustrates, why worry?

"A double-minded man is unstable
in all his ways. "       (James 1:8)

Lastly we ask "to know the difference." This means not only knowing the difference between what we can and cannot change, but more importantly knowing that there are at least two different levels of consciousness with which we can utilize in addressing any 'problem' - the egoic consciousness of our smaller "self" based in unfathomable fear and unquenchable desire, and the higher consciousness of "Self" in which a conscious contact with God, Wholeness, Pure Being and the Unity of the universe is available. In the latter, problems do not exist, because we can clearly see that the worry, fear and anxiety of the ego (as the diagram illustrates) do nothing but rob us of the serenity we need to live a truly spiritual life. In the latter, life suddenly becomes non-problematic, no matter what it is we seem to face, even death.

Acceptance of this duality, through the spiritual practice we have put in so that we can effect a conscious contact with the God of our own understanding, is thus, the fruit of a spiritual life and the essence of true emotional sobriety.

Surrender and Accept Life . . . or, at least, "Pick Your Battles Wisely"

"Agree with thine adversary quickly while thou
art in the way with him, lest at any time the adversary
deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee
to the officer, and thou be cast into prison." 
Matthew 5:25

I found the following article in my varied reading. Although it does not deal specifically with why it is easier, healthier and more effective to accept that life is, in fact, unmanageable, but rather it deals with "picking your battles wisely," the lesson is much the same. You attempt to manage your life - as well as everyone else's - at your own risk. If you do, you will continually be prey to a life of "irritability, restlessness and discontent," irrespective of whether you drink or use drugs to relieve such toxic feelings.

As the great Roman Emperor and renowned philosopher, Marcus Aurelius, observed, "Life is inherently unmanageable."

The following excerpt - "Choosing Your Battles Wisely" - is from Richard M. Carlson's book, "Don't Sweat The Small Stuff . . . and its all small stuff."

"Choosing your battles wisely" is a popular phrase in parenting but is equally important in living a contented life. It suggests that life is filled with opportunities to choose between making a big deal out of something or simply letting it go, realizing it doesn't matter. If you choose your battles wisely, you'll be far more effective in winning those that are truly important.

Certainly there will be times when you will want or need to argue, or even fight for something you believe in. Many people, however, argue, confront, and fight over practically anything, turning their lives into a series of battles over relatively "small stuff." There is so much frustration in living this type of life that you lose track of what is really relevant.

The tiniest disagreement or glitch in your plans can be made into a big deal if your goal (conscious or unconscious) is to have everything work out in your favor. In my book, this is nothing more than a prescription for unhappiness and frustration.

The truth is, life is rarely exactly the way we want it to be, and other people often don't act as we would like them to. Moment to moment, there are aspects of life that we like and others we don't. There are always going to be people who disagree with you, people who do things differently, and things that don't work out. If you fight against this principle of life, you'll spend most of your life fighting battles.

A more peaceful way to live is to decide consciously which battles are worth fighting and which are better left alone. If your primary goal isn't to have everything work out perfectly but instead to lead a relatively stress-free life, you'll find that most battles pull you away from your most tranquil feelings. Is it really important that you prove to your spouse that you are right and she is wrong, or that you confront someone simply because it appears as though he or she has made a minor mistake? Does your preference of which restaurant or movie to go to matter enough to argue over it? Does a small a scratch on your car really warrant a suit in small claims court? Does the fact that your neighbor won't park his car on a different part of the street have to be discussed at the dinner table? These and thousands of other small things are what many people spend their lives fighting about. Take a look at your own list. If it's like mine used to be, you might want to reevaluate your priorities.

If you don't want to "sweat the small stuff," its critical that you choose your battles wisely. eIf you do, there will come a day when you'll rarely need to do battle at all.

 In Twelve Step parlance, this is about (Step 3) turning one's will and life over to a power greater than the "small self" of ego consciousnesss, with its constant nitpicking and dissatisfaction;(Step 10) continuing to examine what we make into a "great big deal" as the result of our remaining defects of character; (Step 7) letting go of such defective thoughts and way of thinking by adjusting our attitudes; and, finally, (Step 11) improving our conscious contact with a power greater than our "small self" egos by hesitating and meditating before going off fully cocked on another ego gratifying battle.

As is noted on page 417 of the Big Book of Âlcoholics Anonymous, ". . . acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or siyuation - some fact of my life - unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens in God's world by mistake. Until I could accept my alcoholism, I could not stay sober; unlesss I accept life completely on life's terms,  I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in me and my attitudes. [Emphasis added.]

These passage once again touch the timeless themes of all the world's great wisdom tradition. "We have no monopoly" on these spiritual insights and truths.