The self-inflicted wound

Do we truly believe that constant happiness is guaranteed in most marriages or in any other area of life?

I assure you that every single human being takes equal sips of suffering.

It is also true that every single romantic relationship contains its own points of friction, regardless of what is carefully curated and posted on Facebook. 🙄

The belief that we are entitled to uninterrupted happiness sits at the root of much of our distress.

The marriage ceremony doesn’t even mention the word “happiness”. Not once.

It speaks instead of commitment, endurance, patience, and love through change, reminding us that peace is not found in perfect circumstances, but in how we meet the ones we are given.

But what if there is no way around it and the relationship ends…

In the aftermath of divorce or the end of a romantic relationship, many people believe peace will finally arrive once the pain stops, once the other person changes, or once life looks the way it was supposed to. Peace does not arrive when the world obeys your wishes.

Peace awakens when the heart stops arguing with reality.

Many hearts search for peace in the wrong direction. They wait for change outside themselves such as different outcomes, different people, or different seasons of life. They believe calm will arrive once circumstances align with desire. Yet Christianity has long pointed to a quieter truth. In the Book of Job, after losing everything that mattered most, Job says, “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.”

This was not resignation.

Job was teaching Radical Acceptance.

Every enduring wisdom tradition echoes this same truth in its own language. Zen and Buddhist teachings describe it simply and clearly: Peace never depends on control. Peace begins the moment resistance ends. 

This teaching does not ask for surrender in weakness. It invites surrender in wisdom. There exists a silent struggle within the mind, an endless attempt to bend life into predictable shapes. The mind grasps, plans, worries, regrets, and resists. When events refuse to follow these expectations, suffering arises, not because life itself has turned painful, but because the mind refuses to release control.

Spiritual teachings across every continent reveal a profound law: suffering grows wherever control is demanded from what never promised obedience.

Peace blooms when this demand dissolves. This teaching unfolds as a living story, not tied to any place and not carried by any named figure, but flowing through moments of insight, silence, struggle, and awakening. Each part deepens the understanding of why acceptance transforms suffering into serenity.

This philosophy rests on direct observation, not blind belief. The proof of this teaching lives within lived experience.

Observe the mind during resistance: breath tightens, thoughts multiply, emotions harden, inner conflict INTENSIFIES….

Now observe the mind during acceptance: breath softens, thoughts slow, emotions loosen, stillness appears. Nothing outside changes in either moment. Only the relationship with reality changes.

This reveals the core truth: pain may arise from life, but suffering arises from refusal.

Acceptance removes the second arrow—the self-inflicted wound.

(Your silent battle with reality.)

The mind believes control creates safety. It whispers promises: if everything stays predictable, peace will remain. If outcomes follow effort, calm will follow. If others behave as expected, harmony will last.

Yet…Life never signs this agreement.

Moments unfold without consultation. Loss arrives unannounced. Change disrupts routines. Emotions rise without invitation. Despite effort, outcomes slip beyond grasp.

The mind responds with tension. It argues with what has already occurred. It revisits moments endlessly, rewriting scenes that never listen. This inner resistance creates exhaustion. Spiritual teachings describe this state as living in opposition to the flow, like swimming upstream against a strong current where effort multiplies while progress disappears. Peace feels distant not because life turns hostile, but because the heart refuses to stop fighting.

Understanding control reveals its limits.

Some forces obey intention, such as actions, choices, effort, attention, and response. Other forces never obey intention, including outcomes, other minds, timing, change, and impermanence. Suffering begins when these two realms become confused.

Wisdom from every culture draws a clear boundary. Control exists only within response, never within results.

Attempting to control outcomes plants the seed of disappointment.

Acceptance does not mean passivity. It means aligning effort with wisdom. Action still flows, but attachment dissolves. The mind learns a new posture, not pushing, not pulling, not collapsing, but standing softly within reality.

Christianity has always pointed to this truth first. Scripture reminds us that all things pass, that seasons change, and that nothing in this world remains fixed forever. Ecclesiastes tells us there is a time for everything under heaven. Buddhist insight echoes this same reality, revealing that all forms change. Thoughts shift. Emotions rise and fade. Circumstances evolve. Even identity transforms. Resistance emerges when the mind clings to permanence in a world designed to be temporary. Spiritual teachings often point to this truth through silence rather than explanation.

Sitting in stillness reveals what words struggle to express. Nothing stays.

When impermanence becomes accepted rather than feared, peace strengthens. Change no longer feels like betrayal.

It becomes nature expressing itself.

Acceptance opens space for grief without drowning, joy without grasping, loss without bitterness, and uncertainty without panic. Acceptance does not arrive dramatically. It enters quietly. It begins the moment the mind stops asking why this should have happened. It begins the moment the heart releases blame. It begins the moment resistance softens into awareness.

This shift feels subtle yet powerful. It is returning to what already exists. The present moment always offers peace once struggle dissolves.

Nothing needs correction.

Nothing requires explanation.

Awareness itself becomes enough.

The illusion of control carries great weight. Control demands constant vigilance. The mind monitors every possibility, anticipating threats and managing expectations. This continuous mental activity drains vitality. Buddhist teachings describe this state as attachment to outcomes, a root cause of suffering. Attachment tightens the heart, and fear follows close behind, fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of uncertainty, and fear of disappointment. Scripture speaks to this same burden when Jesus says, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” Acceptance releases this weight. The heart no longer needs to defend imagined futures. Peace arises not from certainty, but from trust and awareness.

Acceptance does not mean approval. This misunderstanding often arises. Acceptance means recognizing what exists. (without adding resistance) It does not require liking what occurs. It does not forbid boundaries or action. One may accept pain without welcoming it. One may accept loss without celebrating it. One may accept change without craving it.

Acceptance simply ends the internal war.

Once resistance fades, clarity sharpens. Action becomes wiser. Response turns intentional rather than reactive.

Letting go does not mean losing. It means loosening the grip that strangles peace. The mind often clings to past conversations, missed chances, alternate outcomes, and imagined futures. Each clinging tightens suffering. Letting go returns energy to the present moment. Attention no longer leaks into what cannot respond. The heart experiences lightness not because burdens disappear, but because unnecessary weight falls away.

Acceptance grows through awareness. When thoughts arise demanding control, awareness notices them without obedience. When emotions surge, awareness holds them without judgment. When discomfort appears, awareness allows it without narrative. This witnessing creates space. Meditation trains this skill—not to escape reality, but to meet it without defense. Peace emerges as a natural consequence of presence.

Every moment of suffering reveals resistance beneath it. Anger resists what occurred. Anxiety resists what might occur. Regret resists what cannot change.

I encourage a gentle inquiry: what resists right now? What expects life to obey? Awareness answers quietly. Once resistance becomes visible, choice appears. The heart may continue fighting, or it may soften. Peace always waits behind softness.

Acceptance and compassion walk together.

Acceptance deepens compassion. When control releases, judgment softens. Others appear less threatening, less disappointing, less confusing. Everyone acts from conditions shaped by causes beyond full control. This understanding does not excuse harm. It removes hatred. Compassion flows naturally when control dissolves.

Beneath every experience exists stillness. Thoughts rise and fall upon it. Emotions pass through it. Circumstances change around it. This is the silent ground. Acceptance allows awareness to rest here—untouched, unshaken. Peace does not depend on calm conditions. It exists beneath movement.

Trusting the flow does not require surrendering wisdom. Acceptance does not abandon discernment. Zen teachings emphasize balanced living, acting skillfully while releasing attachment. Effort continues. Boundaries remain. Intentions stay clear. Only the demand for control disappears, and life unfolds with fewer inner obstacles. The Stoics expressed this same balance with striking clarity. Epictetus taught, “Make the best use of what is in your power, and take the rest as it happens.” Acceptance does not weaken effort. It places effort where it belongs.

The mind constantly negotiates with reality. If this changes, peace will arrive. If that improves, calm will return. Acceptance ends this negotiation. Peace stops waiting. This realization feels liberating. Marcus Aurelius echoed this truth when he wrote, “You have power over your mind, not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”

Nonresistance creates space for a quiet joy, not excitement or pleasure, but contentment. This joy feels stable because it does not depend on conditions. Zen teachings describe this as being at home with experience. The Stoics described it as freedom from disturbance, a state where the soul rests regardless of circumstance.

Acceptance strengthens through daily practice. Each moment invites participation. Accept sensations. Accept emotions. Accept uncertainty. Accept impermanence. Peace grows gradually, not instantly. As the Stoics reminded their students, tranquility is not found in escaping life, but in meeting it wisely, moment by moment.

“Trying to make something permanent that isn’t….…hurts like hell.”

                                                                            –from the book Annihilation by Shannon Goertz

Suffering transforms when resistance dissolves. Pain still appears. Loss still touches. Change still arrives. Yet the heart remains open rather than armored. This is freedom within form.

Allowing …restores energy. The nervous system relaxes. Breath deepens. Awareness expands. Peace settles naturally. When control falls away, presence remains. Control consumes attention. Acceptance returns attention. Presence deepens. Life feels vivid. Moments feel complete.

Acceptance does not shout. It does not dominate. It does not force. Its power is quiet, steady, and enduring. This gentle strength transforms the inner world completely.

Peace never waited at the end of effort. Peace always existed beneath resistance. The moment acceptance begins, peace reveals itself—not as an achievement, but as a return.

Life flows freely when the heart stops demanding obedience from what never belonged to control. Acceptance does not weaken strength; it refines it.

Peace does not depend on circumstances. It depends on relationship. When that relationship turns gentle, reality stops feeling like an enemy and begins to feel like a teacher.

Silence remains. Breath continues. Awareness rests. Peace begins right here, when control releases and acceptance opens.

(Content from the teachings of Norman Vincent Peale, the book Annihilation by Shannon Goertz and the Zen Philosophy channel on youtube.)