In a culture obsessed with positive thinking, can letting go be a radical act?
Such advice can have the effect of minimising our distress and abruptly changing the subject. Yet it is not the phrases themselves that are troubling – there is real substance to them – but the missed opportunity to grasp the true meaning of what Buddhist teacher Tara Brach calls 'radical acceptance'.
Radical acceptance represents a fundamental principle in both Buddhism and modern psychology and is neatly summarised in the psychotherapeutic expression 'the only way out is through'.
In a culture that emphasises positive thinking, many tend to avoid, repress, or downplay negative emotions and complex life events. Acceptance offers a powerful alternative. It encourages us to acknowledge and allow challenging states of mind and paves the way for greater wholeness, healing and ease.
However, acceptance cannot be achieved instantaneously or via platitudes, nor can it be attained through willpower alone. It requires consistent effort and repeated application.
In an era where viral self-help mantras like Mel Robbins' 'Let Them' theory seem appealing, it is tempting to seek quick fixes to complex problems. However, authentic radical acceptance involves more than detaching from others' behaviours; it requires accepting one's own fluctuating mind states and engaging with the world from a place of wisdom, flexibility and humility.
When my immediate family member died recently after a prolonged period of illness, the dimensions of my grief were (and continue to be) varied – sometimes jagged, sometimes soft and sometimes hard to accept. Yet I reminded myself that nothing was wrong. This was not a mistake. It was exactly as it was.
Over months, I noted 'anguish', 'desperation', 'bargaining', 'funny story', 'loving memory', 'fretting', 'attempt to fix', and so on. With time, a relationship of friendliness emerged and, alongside it, a growing acceptance of what had initially felt unbearable.
The practice is to accept each small, containable moment over and over rather than being lured into a grand narrative about a catastrophic life event.
According to Brach, radical acceptance invites us to pause, recognise and allow whatever arises within us with a spirit of tenderness and care. It can take the form of a gentle 'yes' or a knowing bow to our predominant experience, whatever shape it takes.
As we learn to accept complicated and unwanted feelings such as confusion, disbelief, despair, judgment and resistance, we gradually relate to our circumstances with realism and courage. We notice our thoughts, yearnings and corresponding body sensations and set aside our desire to control or improve our situation. With time, we sow seeds of compassion, even joy, amid difficulty. And our wisdom grows.
Of course, this is easier said than done.
Even in spiritual circles, there is a tendency to bypass difficult experiences or unacceptable emotions. The late Buddhist psychotherapist John Welwood coined the term spiritual bypassing to warn against misusing spirituality, even popular psychology, to avoid the necessary emotional and psychological work required for healing. While certain interpretations of spirituality can make us feel good or righteous in the moment, they can also serve to control and avoid what is happening beneath the surface, which has been proven to result in undesired psychological outcomes.
So, what does it mean to practise acceptance without bypassing intolerable experiences and feelings?
The first step is admitting that what we are going through is hard and that it is very human to resist what is painful. We might start by saying, 'I am suffering right now' or 'This is hard, and I don't like it'. Next, we strive to set aside our desire to replace negative experiences with positive ones. While this may seem at odds with the pursuit of happiness – particularly if we equate happiness with pleasure – it offers a more realistic and potentially fruitful way of being with our human predicament.
As we become more willing to accept the unacceptable, buried, unconscious memories and feelings may emerge and ask to be held in loving attention.
You might wonder: what if things are genuinely catastrophic? What if I am faced with circumstances I cannot possibly accept?
The answer lies in abandoning the struggle. In Buddhism, we are encouraged to 'let things be' – a phrase many Buddhist teachers prefer to 'letting things go'. This means seeing each moment, whether pleasant or unpleasant, as complete and whole, reflecting the flow of causes and conditions that constitute it. Let it be!
You don't have to enjoy every part of reality – in fact, things would get boring and you might get very disappointed if you only welcomed pleasant experiences – but instead, you can allow it to unfold as it will.
As Rumi writes in his beloved poem The Guest House, 'This being human is a guest house … the dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.' He calls on us to invite all 'unexpected visitors' in – it's a radical proposition.
Buddhist monk Ajahn Sumedho captures the heart of radical acceptance with the instruction, 'It is like this right now. Life is like this right now.' In moments of distress, we might repeat these words. The striking part of his suggestion is that you do not have to do anything in particular. Life flows on and you meet it precisely as it is. With time, you may come to realise that you are not the boss of your life or anyone else's. And that fact in itself may offer you inexplicable relief.
Dr Nadine Levy is a senior lecturer at the Nan Tien Institute. She coordinates its health and social wellbeing program and the graduate certificate in applied mindfulness
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The Guardian
04-08-2025
- The Guardian
Ten lessons the Aztecs can teach us today
The ancient Aztecs aren't usually grouped with today's self-help gurus. But their philosophy, preserved in early post-conquest records, offers surprisingly sharp tools for modern life. Unlike stoicism or Buddhism, which emphasize internal reflection as the path to a better life, the Aztecs believed that you should start with your surroundings, your relationships, your body and speech. In their view, wisdom begins outside. Here are 10 lessons from their 'outward path', starting with those that clarify life goals. The pursuit of happiness is written into the US Declaration of Independence. Aristotle wrote volumes about its role as the chief aim of our life more than 2,000 years before that. While it's a staple notion in our culture, the Aztecs took a more realistic approach. 'Happiness', when it's not some complicated idea that's drifted from our ordinary meaning, is fleeting and tends to be followed by its opposite: pain or at least fatigue. That means 'happiness' isn't a suitable goal in life, though it at first looks plausible. What you truly want is something richer, and they likened it to rootedness: being firmly grounded in your body, mind, society and nature. We make sacrifices for our friends and our children, after all, and we think our lives are better for it. That's exactly the Aztec point. A second idea, which finds some expression in stoicism and Buddhism, is that you're after a life that is invulnerable. It's the notion that if you're a good person, none of the things that matter in your life can be affected by life's unpredictable events, even by tragedies. The Aztecs wouldn't agree. The best things in life, such as love, integrity and justice, also expose you to pain. Emiliano Zapata, the people's revolutionary in Mexico who was fluent in Nahuatl and loyal to his people, died young because he refused to betray his values. Aztec ethics embrace this tension: that meaning arises from choices that involve risk. A well-rooted life accepts heartbreak as part of the price of significance. It's tempting to think that if you were just smart enough, you'd have all the answers. We tend to valorize the 'lone wolf' individual who knows better than the crowd. But for the Aztecs, you shouldn't need to 'go it alone' if you live in a healthy community of friends and family. Ideally, good thinking is done in good groups. The Aztecs held structured group deliberations, where even the young had a voice, though experience carried weight. They would advise that you could build your own 'decision circle' and vet your goals with people who challenge and support you. If you're thinking alone, you're probably not thinking at your best. The stories of Aztec heroism during the colonial period are legion. For example, it turns out that Cortés had a son, named Martín, with a Native woman. And though Martín should have been treated well, he was left bereft of political protection some time after his (in)famous father died. Local authorities captured him and forced him to endure brutal torture in an attempt to provoke a false confession. Martín never gave in. While such feats of endurance are partly grounded in a person's innate personality, Martín may well have learned some of the ways the Aztecs instilled courage through repeated small hardships. They didn't optimize for ease. They taught their children to sweep before dawn, to carry heavy logs, and to stay up late. But in these many small feats, they also taught them how to sing while they worked and to manage their outlook. Courage starts small and grows strong. We live in a world under the constant gaze of others. Yet, if you want to live your life, and not the life 'they' tell you to lead, you will have to learn to ignore 'them'. Similarly, if you want to live well, to preserve the value of your own self-worth, then you need to learn what is of real value. One father is documented as he proudly recounts doing humble, hard work to raise his son, never stealing even a grain. You can build this skill through strategic vulnerability. Try doing something mildly embarrassing. Speak the truth when it's awkward. Let your social mask slip. That's how you can try to gain some distance from 'their' gaze. A paradox I noticed in graduate school was that I had no problem putting in hours of tedious study, but I would cave on my dieting goals if someone put a cookie in front of me. The Aztecs took an approach that solves this paradox. Willpower comes in three forms: Drive (high-intensity action), Durability (consistent effort), and Discipline (resistance to temptation). You need different tools for different challenges. Running into a flooded basement is not the same as resisting late-night cake. You need to train all three. Consistent action begets more consistent action. Aztec students swept daily before sunrise and kept their rooms clean. Today, it might be spending 15 minutes each day on a foreign language or making your bed. Whatever it is, hook your new effort to an existing habit to build yet more consistent actions. The Aztecs fasted not to shame their bodies but to train them. Fasting was paired with feasting and used to practice discipline, the kind of willpower that opposes temptation. The goal was a higher-level awareness of your reactions. For example, you might notice that hunger comes in waves, rather than building infinitely. Craving, like emotion, can be ridden out if you know what to expect and why you endure. The Aztecs emphasized 'right speech' as a way of aligning outer habits with inner values. Words, once spoken, nudge your mind into specific frames of thought. So they trained children to speak deliberately, truthfully, humbly, and to avoid gossip. Modern psychologists like Robert Cialdini have come to similar conclusions. What you say out loud subtly rewires how you think. So be careful: your words communicate thoughts and calibrate your expectations. The Aztecs believed wisdom starts not with introspection but with habit, ritual and environment. Clean your space. Speak with care. Eat with intention. Build habits that train your body and attune your mind. As you do, your inner world comes into alignment. You don't need to solve your soul before setting your house in order. In fact, the outer path might just be the way to reach your inner peace. Sebastian Purcell is an associate professor of philosophy at Suny-Cortland in New York, where he researches ethics, Aztec philosophy and mathematical logic. He is the author of Discourses of the Elders: the Aztec Huehuetlatolli, a First English Translation and most recently, The Outward Path: The Wisdom of the Aztecs
The Guardian
04-08-2025
- The Guardian
Ten lessons the Aztecs can teach us today
The ancient Aztecs aren't usually grouped with today's self-help gurus. But their philosophy, preserved in early post-conquest records, offers surprisingly sharp tools for modern life. Unlike stoicism or Buddhism, which emphasize internal reflection as the path to a better life, the Aztecs believed that you should start with your surroundings, your relationships, your body and speech. In their view, wisdom begins outside. Here are 10 lessons from their 'outward path', starting with those that clarify life goals. The pursuit of happiness is written into the US Declaration of Independence. Aristotle wrote volumes about its role as the chief aim of our life more than 2,000 years before that. While it's a staple notion in our culture, the Aztecs took a more realistic approach. 'Happiness', when it's not some complicated idea that's drifted from our ordinary meaning, is fleeting and tends to be followed by its opposite: pain or at least fatigue. That means 'happiness' isn't a suitable goal in life, though it at first looks plausible. What you truly want is something richer, and they likened it to rootedness: being firmly grounded in your body, mind, society and nature. We make sacrifices for our friends and our children, after all, and we think our lives are better for it. That's exactly the Aztec point. A second idea, which finds some expression in stoicism and Buddhism, is that you're after a life that is invulnerable. It's the notion that if you're a good person, none of the things that matter in your life can be affected by life's unpredictable events, even by tragedies. The Aztecs wouldn't agree. The best things in life, such as love, integrity and justice, also expose you to pain. Emiliano Zapata, the people's revolutionary in Mexico who was fluent in Nahuatl and loyal to his people, died young because he refused to betray his values. Aztec ethics embrace this tension: that meaning arises from choices that involve risk. A well-rooted life accepts heartbreak as part of the price of significance. It's tempting to think that if you were just smart enough, you'd have all the answers. We tend to valorize the 'lone wolf' individual who knows better than the crowd. But for the Aztecs, you shouldn't need to 'go it alone' if you live in a healthy community of friends and family. Ideally, good thinking is done in good groups. The Aztecs held structured group deliberations, where even the young had a voice, though experience carried weight. They would advise that you could build your own 'decision circle' and vet your goals with people who challenge and support you. If you're thinking alone, you're probably not thinking at your best. The stories of Aztec heroism during the colonial period are legion. For example, it turns out that Cortés had a son, named Martín, with a Native woman. And though Martín should have been treated well, he was left bereft of political protection some time after his (in)famous father died. Local authorities captured him and forced him to endure brutal torture in an attempt to provoke a false confession. Martín never gave in. While such feats of endurance are partly grounded in a person's innate personality, Martín may well have learned some of the ways the Aztecs instilled courage through repeated small hardships. They didn't optimize for ease. They taught their children to sweep before dawn, to carry heavy logs, and to stay up late. But in these many small feats, they also taught them how to sing while they worked and to manage their outlook. Courage starts small and grows strong. We live in a world under the constant gaze of others. Yet, if you want to live your life, and not the life 'they' tell you to lead, you will have to learn to ignore 'them'. Similarly, if you want to live well, to preserve the value of your own self-worth, then you need to learn what is of real value. One father is documented as he proudly recounts doing humble, hard work to raise his son, never stealing even a grain. You can build this skill through strategic vulnerability. Try doing something mildly embarrassing. Speak the truth when it's awkward. Let your social mask slip. That's how you can try to gain some distance from 'their' gaze. A paradox I noticed in graduate school was that I had no problem putting in hours of tedious study, but I would cave on my dieting goals if someone put a cookie in front of me. The Aztecs took an approach that solves this paradox. Willpower comes in three forms: Drive (high-intensity action), Durability (consistent effort), and Discipline (resistance to temptation). You need different tools for different challenges. Running into a flooded basement is not the same as resisting late-night cake. You need to train all three. Consistent action begets more consistent action. Aztec students swept daily before sunrise and kept their rooms clean. Today, it might be spending 15 minutes each day on a foreign language or making your bed. Whatever it is, hook your new effort to an existing habit to build yet more consistent actions. The Aztecs fasted not to shame their bodies but to train them. Fasting was paired with feasting and used to practice discipline, the kind of willpower that opposes temptation. The goal was a higher-level awareness of your reactions. For example, you might notice that hunger comes in waves, rather than building infinitely. Craving, like emotion, can be ridden out if you know what to expect and why you endure. The Aztecs emphasized 'right speech' as a way of aligning outer habits with inner values. Words, once spoken, nudge your mind into specific frames of thought. So they trained children to speak deliberately, truthfully, humbly, and to avoid gossip. Modern psychologists like Robert Cialdini have come to similar conclusions. What you say out loud subtly rewires how you think. So be careful: your words communicate thoughts and calibrate your expectations. The Aztecs believed wisdom starts not with introspection but with habit, ritual and environment. Clean your space. Speak with care. Eat with intention. Build habits that train your body and attune your mind. As you do, your inner world comes into alignment. You don't need to solve your soul before setting your house in order. In fact, the outer path might just be the way to reach your inner peace. Sebastian Purcell is an associate professor of philosophy at Suny-Cortland in New York, where he researches ethics, Aztec philosophy and mathematical logic. He is the author of Discourses of the Elders: the Aztec Huehuetlatolli, a First English Translation and most recently, The Outward Path: The Wisdom of the Aztecs
The Independent
30-07-2025
- The Independent
High in India's Himalayan mountains, yak herders struggle to survive a warming world
Carrying her 1-year-old son on her back, Tsering Dolma herds a dozen yaks into a stone-walled corral as evening approaches in the desolate mountains of India's remote Ladakh region. A few herders tending livestock are the only people visible for miles on the wind-swept plains where patchy grass gives way to gravelly foothills and stony peaks. For generations, herders such as Dolma have relied on snowmelt that trickled down the mountain folds to sustain the high-altitude pastures where their herds graze. But now, herders say, the snow and rain are less predictable, and there is less grass for yaks to eat. 'Earlier, it used to snow and rain, but now it has reduced a lot,' the 32-year-old says. 'Even the winters are getting warmer than before.' Much of the herding, milking and gathering of wool is done by women in Ladakh, an area near Tibet that was part of the ancient Silk Route. It's work mostly done by hand. In another valley, Kunzias Dolma is busy making tea with yak milk and checking her yak butter, while spinning her Buddhist prayer wheel with her right hand. The 73-year-old, who's not related to Tsering Dolma, has spent her life around yaks, working long hours to make products from their milk and sewing blankets from their wool. 'We wake up early morning around 5 a.m. every day,' she says. 'My husband and I milk the yaks and do all of the other yak-related work until about lunch. Then we take a break and get back to work in the evening. We have been doing this all our life.' But that way of life is threatened as climate change makes Ladakh less hospitable to yaks and many in the younger generation seek other jobs. Rising temperatures and erratic rainfall in the area have made it harder for yaks, which are related to bison and cattle, to find nourishing vegetation and have also exposed the shaggy, cold-loving animals' bodies to more stress. Researchers have found that the average temperature in the Ladakh region has increased by 3 C (5.4 F) in the last four decades, while heat waves have become more extreme and rains more unpredictable. While it's hard to precisely quantify climate change's impact on yak numbers in the area, scientists say it appears to be a factor in their decline. The government estimates the yak population in Ladakh has fallen from nearly 34,000 in 2012 to fewer than 20,000 in 2019, the most recent year for which the data is available. Globally, the yak population remains in the millions, but scientists say the ecosystem in this part of the Himalayas is particularly vulnerable to global warming. A threatened way of life Herder Kunzang Angmo has seen the changes up close. 'Earlier, there were a lot of yaks, but now there aren't as many,' she says. 'It used to snow a lot before, but now the snowfall is decreasing, and due to less water, we have less grass available.' Generations of Tsering Angchok's family have relied on yaks, but the number of herders in the area is dropping. 'We get everything from the yak—food, milk, clothing, butter, cheese, meat, wool, even dung,' says the 75-year-old who has 80 yaks. 'Nothing goes to waste. We and our ancestors have grown up living on all of this.' As weather patterns change, native vegetation is being crowded out by less nourishing shrubs and weeds, according to researchers. Herders say grazing lands are becoming smaller. Thering Norphel, a 70-year-old former yak herder, remembers when pastures had more vegetation and life with yaks was easier. 'When I was younger, there was more grass, more water and more wildlife,' he says. Pointing to bare mountains in the distance, he said: 'Earlier, all those mountains were filled with snow. Now it's just rock. As there is no snow or ice, there is less water. This affects the growth of grass that yaks feed on.' Consequences for a fragile ecosystem Tashi Dorji, a livestock and rangelands specialist with the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development, says the region and its people are being hit especially hard by global warming. 'Fast-melting glaciers, intense, erratic rainfall and reducing snow levels are all having a direct impact on both the herders and their animals,' Dorji says. Stanzin Rabgais, a livestock officer with the Ladakh government, attributes a rise in bacterial diseases among yaks in recent years to hotter temperatures in the region. Experts warn that the decline in yak herding has consequences for Ladakh and its fragile Himalayan ecosystem, because pastoralists manage grazing lands, keep invasive plants in check and help maintain the area's biodiversity. The sparsely populated region, most of which is is above 3,000 meters (9,842 feet), is also home to wildlife including the snow leopard, red fox and blue sheep. 'If the herders disappear, the landscape changes,' Dorji says. 'Unpalatable shrubs take over, wildlife loses food sources and the ecosystem starts to collapse. This is not just about animals—it's about a way of life and the health of the land.' Rabgais believes that yak products could sell beyond the area if properly marketed and developed. He describes yak calf wool, for example, as finer than most commercial wool, rivaling cashmere in softness. A traditional livelihood in a changing job market Jobs in tourism and other industries, along with educational opportunities, also draw people away from herding. Herders say younger Ladakhis prefer less arduous work with potentially better pay than tending to yaks. Herders travel long distances over rough mountain land to find grazing areas and are constantly on the move. 'The next generation doesn't want to do this work. They work for the Indian Army as laborers or are getting an education and looking for other jobs,' says Norphel, the former yak herder. Ladakh, famous for its Buddhist monasteries and hiking trails, has experienced a significant increase in tourism in recent years as transportation infrastructure has made the area easier to reach, which has created new jobs. Rabgais, the government official, says most yak herders are older now and unless greater numbers of young people take up herding, 'the future is bleak' for the occupation. Among the exceptions is 32-year-old yak herder Punchuk Namdol, who chose the traditional profession even as other people his age look for different options. 'Earlier, we didn't have any other work — we only had yaks and other cattle,' Namdol says. 'But now, there's no one to take care of them. Yak herding is a difficult task, and fewer people are willing to do it.' ___ Follow Sibi Arasu on X at @sibi123 ___ ___ The Associated Press' climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at
