Often I am terrified of giving up autonomy. It's scary because autonomy gives a feeling--perhaps an illusion--of power. But for me, that power is not always satisfying. In fact, maybe never satisfying in itself. The true satisfaction comes from enacting, manifesting, and witnessing goodness, love, truth, justice, compassion, and joy. It's rare for me that those actually require power, and thus, autonomy. However, a lack of autonomy can sometimes force me to find new ways of doing good -- and that burden is scary. Likewise, signing up for trading away autonomy for something better requires trust and faith, that what is better will come to be.
I've been researching 12-step programs recently. The first step is admitting powerlessness over the addiction. The second, believing that a higher power has power over the addiction, and third, truly asking for it to use that power. The higher power can be interpreted in various ways, most often "God as I understand God," but even something like "my higher power is the 12-step group" is frequent. This process is often described in terms of surrender. Surrendering my will to God's, and trusting that God and the program really will heal my addiction. That might sound like the greatest possible sacrifice of autonomy. Yet, in exchange for that dependency, there is given a truer freedom -- freedom from addiction, freedom from inner compulsion, and freedom to be truly happy.
Hope you're doing well, Mark. Enjoyed reflecting on the post.
Wow, talk about a paradigm shift. Thanks for posting this, Mark! I'm also currently on sabbatical from work and I can relate to the difficulty of deciding what to “spend” your autonomy on.
This is a HUGE lightbulb moment: 'Instead of “freedom from external control over my external circumstances,” it meant “freedom from external control over my state of mind.” Autonomy, in a monastic setting, comes from within.'
And this! "The real power of autonomy is being able to decide when to exchange it for something better."
Have you written elsewhere about your time at the monastery in Vermont? I would love to read more about that experience.
Often I am terrified of giving up autonomy. It's scary because autonomy gives a feeling--perhaps an illusion--of power. But for me, that power is not always satisfying. In fact, maybe never satisfying in itself. The true satisfaction comes from enacting, manifesting, and witnessing goodness, love, truth, justice, compassion, and joy. It's rare for me that those actually require power, and thus, autonomy. However, a lack of autonomy can sometimes force me to find new ways of doing good -- and that burden is scary. Likewise, signing up for trading away autonomy for something better requires trust and faith, that what is better will come to be.
I've been researching 12-step programs recently. The first step is admitting powerlessness over the addiction. The second, believing that a higher power has power over the addiction, and third, truly asking for it to use that power. The higher power can be interpreted in various ways, most often "God as I understand God," but even something like "my higher power is the 12-step group" is frequent. This process is often described in terms of surrender. Surrendering my will to God's, and trusting that God and the program really will heal my addiction. That might sound like the greatest possible sacrifice of autonomy. Yet, in exchange for that dependency, there is given a truer freedom -- freedom from addiction, freedom from inner compulsion, and freedom to be truly happy.
Hope you're doing well, Mark. Enjoyed reflecting on the post.
Wow, talk about a paradigm shift. Thanks for posting this, Mark! I'm also currently on sabbatical from work and I can relate to the difficulty of deciding what to “spend” your autonomy on.
This is a HUGE lightbulb moment: 'Instead of “freedom from external control over my external circumstances,” it meant “freedom from external control over my state of mind.” Autonomy, in a monastic setting, comes from within.'
And this! "The real power of autonomy is being able to decide when to exchange it for something better."
Have you written elsewhere about your time at the monastery in Vermont? I would love to read more about that experience.