I have just finished listening to an audiobook entitled "The Five Things We Cannot Change.. and the Happiness We Find by Embracing Them" by David Richo and narrated by Tom Pile on Audible.
It gave me a space to do a self-conversation and a reflection about life and fate. It introduced me about "Amor Fati" or loving the fate about five unavoidable givens,
five immutable facts that come to visit all of us many times over: (1)
Everything changes and ends; (2) Things do not always go according to
plan; (3) Life is not always fair; (4) Pain is part of life; and (5)
People are not loving and loyal all the time. I want to share with you about the insights and key takeaways from this audiobook. Here they are. Happy learning, and enjoy!
Introduction
Life presents us with a series of unavoidable realities that we often struggle to accept. There are five unavoidable givens, five immutable facts that come to visit all of us many times over: (1) Everything changes and ends; (2) Things do not always go according to plan; (3) Life is not always fair; (4) Pain is part of life; and (5) People are not loving and loyal all the time. We often live in denial of these facts, behaving as if they are not applicable to us, which leads to a life of resistance and disappointment.
The core proposition of this book is that these givens are not actually "bad news" but are exactly what we need to gain wisdom, courage, and compassion. By accepting these conditions rather than fighting them, we can find true happiness and use the givens as a path to personal transformation.
The "unconditional yes" is defined as a willingness to accept reality exactly as it is, without the buffers of subjective protest or denial. This acceptance is not a passive surrender but a courageous alignment with reality that opens us to spiritual surprises and growth.
Practicing this "yes" involves mindfulness—fearless and patient attention to the present moment. When we stop debating or complaining about the conditions of existence, we align ourselves with the flow of life, much like sitting in a saddle in the direction a horse is moving.
When faced with tragedy or difficulty, the ego often asks, "Why me?", implying an entitlement to better treatment. A more mindful and mature response transforms this question into, "Yes, this happened. Now what?" allowing us to engage with our lives constructively rather than remaining stuck in victimhood.
Believing that "anything can happen to me" is a significant adult accomplishment that fosters humility and connects us to the rest of humanity. It strips away the illusion that we are entitled to special exemptions from the struggles that every other human being faces.
The word "given" has a dual meaning: it refers to unchangeable conditions but also implies something "granted" to us as a gift. These difficult facts of life are actually the raw materials necessary for developing character, depth, and compassion.
To find the gift within the given, we must stop trying to control or preempt these challenges. When we cease our resistance, these puzzling aspects of life transform into doors of liberation, helping us evolve rather than just survive.
"Grace" acts as a spiritual complement to our personal efforts, kicking in when our ego's powers are insufficient. It expands our intellect into intuitive wisdom, our will into courage, and our hearts into the capacity to love rather than hate.
Each of the five givens brings specific graces: impermanence teaches us to flow with life; failed plans reveal larger destinies; unfairness calls us to justice; pain yields endurance and compassion; and human failings challenge us to love unconditionally.
Chapter 1: Everything Changes and Ends
The first given is the inevitability of change and endings for every person, relationship, and thing; nothing is permanently satisfying or static. While this constant flux is a mystery, it appears to be the price of nature's commitment to variety and new growth.
We can view impermanence not as a tragedy but as an indication of the holiness of things, where holiness is understood as the "whole" condition of reality, including its beginnings and endings. Trusting this process allows us to believe that the way things are is exactly what is best for the universe's unfolding.
Western culture often denies the reality of death and change, yet humans possess an innate "inner technology" for dealing with loss: the ability to mourn. Grief is the "yes of tears," a healthy response that allows us to resolve losses and move toward new connections rather than clinging to the past.
Mourning is essential because it allows us to accept approximations of what we have lost; while we may never recover a specific person, we can find similar qualities in others. Failing to grieve denies us the strength needed to face life's conditions and move forward.
Our interest in things and people naturally follows a bell-shaped curve: rising interest, cresting enjoyment, and eventual decline. Suffering arises when we demand that the "high crest" of an experience remain permanent, which is an attempt to live in a fairy tale rather than reality.
Mindfulness offers a "middle path" between attraction and repulsion, allowing us to witness our desires to draw near or withdraw without being compelled to act on them. This center position permits a "yes" to total reality, freeing us from the suffering caused by chasing the appealing or fleeing the repulsive.
Aging is a physical manifestation of the truth of impermanence; as our bodies change, they invite us to shift our focus from physical prowess to wisdom. Fighting this natural progression leads to crisis, whereas accepting it allows us to fulfill the archetype of the wise guide or sage.
A "yes" to aging frees us from the vanity of youth obsession and positions us to let our natural inclination toward wisdom be fully activated. Wrinkles and wisdom often go together, and accepting the former is often the price of gaining the latter.
The impulse to control is rooted in fear—specifically, the fear of feeling grief or pain. We mistakenly believe that if we stay in control, we can prevent losses and the subsequent need to mourn, but this only maintains stress and opposes life's reality.
True serenity comes not from perfecting control but from surrendering the belief that we have it. Worry is simply a symptom of this lack of trust in our ability to handle what happens; letting go of control allows us to trust ourselves and the unfolding of life.
Chapter 2: Things Do Not Always Go According to Plan
We often create plans to maintain a sense of control, but life's "unruly givens" frequently disrupt them, serving as "permissions not to be perfect". When plans go awry, it is not necessarily a failure but can be an instance of synchronicity—a mysterious coincidence that leads to unlooked-for fulfillment.
Spiritual maturity involves letting go of the demand for perfection and the need to have things turn out our way. We can find satisfaction in doing our best and letting the results be what they may, understanding that our "best" is perfectly human even if it isn't perfect.
Nature serves as a model for the "unconditional yes," showing us how to flow with changes, honor both light and dark, and participate in a larger design. Just as nature is an ecology of interdependent parts, our lives are part of a larger planetary community where individual plans are secondary to the universe's flow.
Humility is the virtue that aligns us with reality, derived from the word "humus" (earth), connecting us to the natural world. This humility allows us to accept our powerlessness in certain situations and trust that even unplanned events contribute to our evolution.
Our universal calling is to be the most loving people we can be, focusing on how we give love rather than how we receive it. This commitment shifts our focus from seeking approval to activating our capacity to love, which is a contribution the world waits for.
We are here to discover and share unique inner gifts, a purpose that is evolutionary rather than static. Appreciating these gifts helps counteract self-loathing and aligns us with the orderly, intrinsic directedness found in all of nature.
The givens of life evoke specific archetypes: changes evoke renewal, failed plans evoke synchronicity, and unfairness evokes karma. Viewing life through this archetypal lens helps us see that our personal struggles are connected to universal themes of growth and redemption.
Synchronicity and karma suggest that there is a "larger plan" or meaningful coincidence at work, even when our personal plans fail. Trusting in this interconnectedness allows us to see bad breaks not as random cruelty but as part of a purposeful story of our own becoming.
A "balance of nature" exists in our lives where personal plans align with a larger universal caring or loving-kindness. This balance includes room for chaos and disorder, yet is underpinned by an enduring life force that survives the tumult.
"Assisting forces" or graces often appear to help us when we are stuck, turning our scared egos into champions of love. Love creates a feeling of safety that casts out fear, allowing us to surrender to the moment and find poise amidst the givens.
Chapter 3: Life Is Not Always Fair
Unfairness is a reality of life; we will sometimes lose, be taken advantage of, or see our good intentions misinterpreted. The spiritual challenge is to meet these losses with loving-kindness and without retaliation, maintaining an open heart despite the hurt.
An adult response to unfairness involves a "middle path" of remaining vulnerable enough to love while maintaining healthy boundaries to protect oneself. We can seek amends and redress, but if those fail, the spiritual task is to let go rather than harbor resentment.
The human default setting is often retaliation, but spiritual practice calls us to override this in favor of reconciliation and compassion. Retaliation may satisfy the ego, but it damages the soul of the retaliator; forgiveness and non-retaliation preserve our own spiritual integrity.
Forgiveness does not require the other person to be sorry, but reconciliation is easier when there is genuine repentance. When we choose not to punish the unfair, we act as "fair and alert witnesses" who work for transformation rather than revenge.
The question "Why do the innocent suffer?" assumes a world of strict retribution which is a primitive, fear-based view of reality. A mature consciousness accepts that suffering is not a punishment from a vengeful God but a shared experience of all humanity, and even of the divine itself.
The mystery of suffering is not solved by finding a reason for it, but by finding its evolutionary power. Instead of praying to be saved "from" the givens, a mature prayer asks for the presence of the divine "within" the givens to help us grow through them.
The neurotic ego is driven by "FACE": Fear, Attachment, Control, and Entitlement. Spiritual practice involves taming this ego, transforming fear into caution, attachment into commitment, control into effectiveness, and entitlement into a thirst for justice.
We can facilitate this transformation by doing a "tenfold yes" inventory, affirming things like transparency, acceptance of conditions, and the refusal to hate. This practice helps dismantle the neurotic ego so the healthy ego can thrive and cooperate with our higher nature.
Our brains contain a "reptilian" core focused on survival and retaliation, but we also have a "mammalian" capacity for connection and a "human" cerebral cortex for spiritual meaning. When we operate solely from fear, we regress to reptilian behaviors like aggression, bypassing our capacity for love and cooperation.
Choosing nonviolence and virtue is a minority position in a world often dominated by the collective shadow of war and greed. By saying "yes" to the fact that we are a minority, we can work for change without despair, standing as proof that humanity can evolve beyond its primitive impulses.
Chapter 4: Pain Is Part of Life
The first noble truth of Buddhism states that life is inherently unsatisfactory or painful; this is a given, not a punishment. Pain—physical, psychological, or spiritual—is built into the nature of change and growth, serving as a cost for our existence and evolution.
We often exacerbate our necessary pain by adding layers of "ego mind-sets" like blame, shame, and obsession. Mindfulness allows us to experience the pain as it is—pure grief or sadness—without the suffering caused by our mental resistance and stories.
Admitting that we can be victimized is an acknowledgement of our vulnerability and humanity, countering the rigid self-help insistence on never being a victim. However, there is a difference between being a "casualty" who waits for rescue and a person who accepts the hurt without retaliating, thereby maintaining spiritual strength.
Sometimes pain is collective, such as the suffering caused by war or prejudice, which is too heavy for any individual to carry alone. In these cases, community is essential to hold the burden, preventing isolation and fragmentation.
Nature includes destructive elements like earthquakes and storms, reflecting the shadow side of reality that we must accept alongside the beautiful. Saying "yes" to these harsh realities is a practice of befriending the dark rather than fearing or hating it.
The story of the Buddha's enlightenment, where the earth goddess defeats Mara's armies with a flood, illustrates that nature can be an ally in facing darkness. To be enlightened is to see the light in the dark, integrating opposites rather than splitting the world into "good" and "bad".
"Empathic immersion" or mindful presence involves being with another person in their pain without trying to fix, judge, or distract them. This presence relies on the "five A's": attention, acceptance, appreciation, affection, and allowing.
When we provide a nonjudgmental container for someone's pain, a "healing shift" often occurs naturally; the person feels validated and finds their own permission to move on. This practice requires us to suspend our own ego defenses and simply witness the other's reality.
Life has seasons of dormancy and darkness, much like winter in nature, which are necessary for renewal. These "void" periods—where we feel empty, stuck, or unreal—are not mistakes but incubation periods for spiritual maturity.
The metaphor of the scarab beetle, which rolls dung (the "dark" material) to incubate its eggs, teaches us to trust the transformative power of the dark. By sitting in the void with humility and trust, rather than trying to escape, we allow a new, more spacious self to emerge.
Chapter 5: People Are Not Loving and Loyal All the Time
It is a given that people will not always be loving or loyal; they may betray, reject, or ignore us. An adult accepts this fact without being devastated, maintaining their own capacity to love regardless of how they are treated.
Our spiritual practice is to meet disloyalty with loving-kindness, using the pain of betrayal to open our hearts further rather than closing them. We learn to distinguish between "intentional hurt" (cruelty) and "consequent hurt" (natural endings), handling both without retaliation.
Our childhood experiences in our family of origin leave a long-term imprint on our adult relationships, influencing who we trust and what we fear. We often unconsciously seek partners who replicate these early dynamics to resolve unmet needs.
If we lacked a safe "holding environment" in childhood, we may struggle with trust, but we can learn to hold our distrust ("People can't always be trusted") alongside a commitment to stay open ("I do not shut down"). This "two-handed practice" allows us to navigate adult relationships with prudence but without cynicism.
Since we cannot rely on others to consistently provide the "five A's" (attention, acceptance, appreciation, affection, allowing), we must learn to be self-nurturant. This involves finding resources within ourselves—through spiritual practice, valuing our own needs, and connecting with nature and ancestors.
Becoming self-nurturant reduces the pressure on our partners and allows us to accept the "good enough" love that is actually available. We learn to distinguish between the infantile need to be taken care of and the adult enjoyment of being cared for.
Adult relationships require us to accept that we may not be the center of attention as we were in infancy. We must realize that love is a teaching device: how our parents loved us taught us how to love, and we can now choose to learn new ways.
A key given is that we cannot control how someone loves us; intimacy requires giving up this control and facing fears of engulfment or abandonment. We must move from an ego-based question of "What can I get?" to a spiritual question of "What can I contribute?".
Healthy boundaries involve knowing our own preferences and moods rather than living reactively to others. In a relationship with intact boundaries, we design our schedules cooperatively but with respect for our own needs, rather than breaking commitments to please a partner.
Maintaining boundaries means we do not require the approval of others for our self-esteem and we take criticism as information rather than a diminishment of self. We move from "relationship as accommodation" to "relationship as negotiation".
Chapter 6: Refuges from the Givens
Society often encourages us to fight the givens through obsessions with youth, wealth, and prestige, which are false refuges. A true refuge is not an escape from reality but a set of values that cherishes virtue and integrity, which endure even as we age and change.
Fear drives us to seek protection from the conditions of existence, but true safety lies in facing them. We must distinguish between refuges that distract us and those that resource us to face life's vicissitudes.
Religion can be a childish attempt to find a "parent in the sky" who will rescue us from pain, or it can be a mature source of support for growing through pain. A mature faith relies on divine presence and accompaniment rather than magical intervention.
The "help of God" should be understood not as an exemption from the givens but as the grace to handle them and evolve. We pray not to change reality but to say "yes" and "thanks" to the growth it offers.
Buddhism offers three refuges: the Buddha (our own enlightened potential), the Dharma (truth and practice), and the Sangha (community). These are not external protectors but internal energies of awakening that help us face life with wisdom and compassion.
Taking refuge in the Sangha means realizing we are interconnected and leaning on others for support in our spiritual practice. Nature also reflects these refuges, acting as a vast community of interdependent life that models the "yes" to reality.
When we fear life's givens, we often retreat to "backstreet refuges" like addiction to alcohol, food, sex, or even intellectualization. These behaviors are attempts to distract ourselves from authentic needs and feelings.
Another false refuge is hiding our vulnerability to maintain an image of strength, which prevents true contact with others. We may deny the impact of events or make excuses to avoid the pain of the unconditional yes.
The ultimate safety is found in "no refuge," meaning we stop trying to escape the present moment. By facing our experience without props or defenses, we discover that we can survive and even thrive in the midst of reality.
This "safety in no escape" allows us to experience the archetype of meaning; when we stop running, we find that the universe supports us in our vulnerability. We learn to trust our own buddha nature—the resources within our own hearts—as the only reliable sanctuary.
Chapter 7: How to Become Yes
The "yes" to life is a skill we can cultivate; it is a middle path between fearing the givens (avoidance) and mere resignation. Each given equips us with a skill: loss teaches letting go, failed plans teach flexibility, and unfairness teaches justice-seeking without retaliation.
Saying yes combines defenselessness (being open to events) with resourcefulness (doing our best to handle them). We roll with the punches—or "roll on"—rather than rolling over, maintaining our vitality and "bonfire" of spirit regardless of tragedy.
Loving-kindness ("metta") is the widest form of "yes" because it extends unconditional benevolence to all beings, including ourselves and our enemies. It is a practice of hospitality to humanity, remedying our fear of others by honoring our interconnectedness.
This practice rests on four "immeasurables": love (willing happiness for all), compassion (feeling others' pain), sympathetic joy (delighting in others' success), and equanimity (accepting things as they are). These qualities are innate potentials that we can activate at any time.
Tonglen is a Tibetan practice of "sending and taking": we breathe in the suffering of others (taking) and breathe out relief and happiness to them (sending). This reverses our ego's tendency to avoid pain and hoard pleasure, training us in compassion.
By practicing Tonglen, we dissolve the barrier between self and other, realizing that the suffering of one is the suffering of all. It is a concrete way to say "yes" to the pain in the world and transform it through our own hearts.
Mature spirituality moves beyond dualism (us vs. them, heaven vs. earth) to a "both/and" perspective where there is no "outside". We realize that God, saints, and buddhas are not distant beings but qualities within us and within all reality.
The "communion of saints" illustrates this non-duality, representing a bond between the living and the dead where love and wisdom continue to flow. This interconnectedness means that our actions reverberate through the entire web of existence.
Nature is the ultimate teacher of the unconditional yes; it constantly accepts change, death, and renewal without debate. By observing nature, we see that "dharma" (the law of reality) is simply the way things are, and nature follows this law effortlessly.
Nature's "yes" is not passive; it is an active participation in evolution. When we align with nature's example, we realize that we too are "practicing Buddhism" simply by being authentically present in our own lives.
Chapter 8: Yes to Feelings
Feelings are healthy, built-in technologies given by nature to help us deal with life's jolts and evolve. A "yes" to feelings means allowing ourselves to be human—to cry, rage, shake, or laugh—before rushing to philosophical or spiritual explanations.
Repressing feelings creates "stress" or blockage, whereas expressing them allows the energy to move through us and resolve. The "yes" we were born with is unconditioned; it is society and upbringing that teach us to inhibit our natural emotional responses.
Feelings become safe to express when they have been "mirrored" in childhood—greeted with attention, acceptance, appreciation, affection, and allowing. If this mirroring was missing, we can learn to mirror ourselves or find safe people now to help reinstall the capacity for healthy emotional expression.
We can use the acronym SAFE to identify the four major feelings: Sadness, Anger, Fear, and Exuberance. Checking in with these basic categories helps us decode our complex emotional states and avoid substituting one feeling for another.
Love is not just a feeling but a context of presence that allows all feelings to exist without judgment. When we feel loved (by others or ourselves), we can express sadness without shame, anger without violence, and fear without groveling.
True love liberates us from the need to manipulate others with our emotions; we express feelings to be true to ourselves, not to control a result. This honest expression is the hallmark of self-respect and intimacy.
Fear often masks excitement; a useful practice is to ask, "What am I afraid to get excited about?". Neurotic fear attacks our trust in ourselves, but we can counter it with "guts and grace"—the commitment to act despite the fear.
We can use the "triple-A" practice for fear: Admit it, Allow the feeling, and Act anyway. Acknowledging fear as "mine" (as Prospero did with Caliban) integrates it and prevents it from possessing us as an alien force.
Receiving others' feelings requires us to drop our ego mind-sets (fixing, judging, blaming) and simply be present with the five A's. We listen to anger without defense, witness grief without trying to cheer the person up, and share in joy without envy.
This reception is the essence of intimacy; if any feeling is forbidden in a relationship, the intimacy is incomplete. By allowing others their full emotional reality, we help them move through it, as feelings that are heard tend to resolve.
Chapter 9: A Yes to Who I Am
Saying "yes" to who we are involves accepting our psychological and spiritual dimensions without needing to be perfect or separate. Our identity is not a static structure but an evolving process, continually changing and never fully finished.
We are both a unique self and part of a "no-self" or universal interconnectedness. True wisdom leads to the realization that our individual core is simultaneously the self of all humanity.
Psychologically, "yes" means doing the work to become a stable, healthy individual who can handle life's challenges. It involves integrating our shadow, resolving childhood wounds, and developing the virtues that build character.
We accept our "Face" (fear, attachment, control, entitlement) and work to transform it, realizing that our neuroses are just distorted attempts to meet valid needs. This psychological work prepares the vessel for spiritual grace.
Spiritually, "yes" is an agreement to be a vehicle for the divine life force, which seeks to express itself through us. We realize that our virtues and strengths are not just our own achievements but gifts from a source beyond our ego.
Our destiny is to display a design beyond time within the limits of time, acting as delegates of a higher consciousness. This involves a commitment to compassion and the well-being of all, moving from "I am" to "We are".
Mystically, "yes" dissolves the boundaries between the mundane and the holy; we see that "all the lotus lands... are revealed in my own being". We experience direct contact with the "Something" that animates the universe, recognizing it as our own deepest identity.
The paradox of "Self or No-Self?" is resolved in the "yes" to both: we affirm our unique historical existence (Self) while simultaneously knowing we are not separate from the whole (No-Self). We are waves that are distinct for a moment but always part of the ocean.
A stable sense of self is built on a sense of continuity (history), connection (relationships), and agency (competence). It flourishes in an atmosphere of the five A's, which we can learn to give to ourselves.
We build this stability by practicing virtues daily—not as abstract concepts but as specific actions like honesty, patience, and generosity. These actions align us with our basic goodness and serve as a guarantee against a wasted life.
Epilogue
The book concludes that while we must accept the five difficult givens, we are also endowed with "positive givens" or graces that help us face them. These graces—such as humor, hope, forgiveness, and resilience—are part of our collective human inheritance.
Grace is defined as the power to say yes to ourselves and find peace, often arriving when we feel we can't go on. It is the experience of being "accompanied" by a protecting presence that supports us through every trial.
We are never alone; the universe itself is a "holding environment" that feels personal and loving. This sense of accompaniment is not superstition but a valid psychological and spiritual reality that sustains us.
We possess an irrepressible playfulness and a knack for finding order in chaos. These abilities allow us to find meaning even in disaster and to keep going when things fall apart.
We have a capacity to forgive and let go, refusing to be defined by defeat or abuse. This resilience is a sign of the "healing energy ever afoot" that rebuilds what has been broken.
Our intuition reveals more than logic knows, and our honesty connects us to truth even when no one is watching. These inner resources are evidence of the divine light within us.
We have an unflappable hope and a tendency to stretch ourselves beyond our grasp. This striving is the evolutionary urge of the universe acting through us.
The ultimate purpose of our lives is to evolve toward wholeness, sanctity, and enlightenment, a goal we share with all creation. The "groan for completeness" in us is the sound of the universe longing for its own fulfillment.
Loving-kindness is identified as the essence of human completeness. When we say yes to the givens, we become a fulcrum of balance in the world, holding others with the same love that holds us.
The author's final wish is that we live in continual awareness of being held by a caring presence that never deserts us. By trusting this presence, we can walk through the "valley of the shadow of death" with the confidence that we are being led toward our own evolution.
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