As seems to be happening with some regularity these days, I started to write an answer to this question, “What happens when we stop forcing ourselves to do the “right” thing and create enough space to discover what we actually want?” and realized that there are other issues to be addressed before answering this question.
I was reading a book yesterday and it mentioned the fact that hierarchy is embedded in all the social systems we are part of. Hierarchy isn’t inherently bad. As I think about this and the question of compliance to doing the “right” thing, even more questions arise. Who is making that decision and how do we know what is right? And from an intrapsychic point of view, who is making that decision and who is authorizing it?
Authority isn’t the problem. Unexamined or misused authority is.
There may be a part of me that has appointed itself the authority:
This is what a good person does.
This is what a responsible person does.
This is what I should want.
This is what is expected of me.
This is what makes me acceptable.
And perhaps the really interesting question isn’t simply “What do I want?”
It might be:
Who gets to decide what I should do?
And then even further:
Who gave that part of me the authority to decide?
Perhaps consent isn’t only about whether I say yes or no to something external. It may also involve examining my internal authority structure through which my yes or no gets produced.
My own self-authority depends on being able to distinguish authority from domination, whether internal or external.
What I began to wonder is what happens when I create enough space so that my answer doesn’t have to be predetermined?
If I stop obeying the voice that tells me what I should do, what happens when I don’t immediately replace it with another voice?
Maybe I will discover what I want.
Maybe I will discover that I genuinely want to do the thing I was forcing myself to do.
Maybe I will discover that I don’t want to.
Maybe I will discover something I couldn’t have known while I was busy complying.
This last possibility feels especially alive.
Because then space isn’t permission to do whatever I want. Space is a way of encountering reality before I’ve decided what reality is supposed to be.
A predetermined answer is the undemanding way. But I’m also noticing how unspontaneous and repetitive it feels. While familiar and comfortable, it doesn’t feel particularly alive in this moment. The issue of not knowing and creating from that space feels exciting, innovative, and edgy. I’m giving up the safety of knowing in advance. I could easily be wrong but at least I feel alive.
A predetermined answer has enormous advantages. It reduces uncertainty. It gives me a standard against which to measure myself. It lets me know whether I’m succeeding. And, perhaps most importantly, it means I don’t have to encounter the vulnerability of finding out.
Because if I already know the right answer, I can comply.
If I don’t know, I have to participate. I have to choose and act.
I have to notice. Experiment. Risk. Respond. Revise. Create.
And yes, I could be wrong.
Being wrong is an inherent possibility when I participate in reality rather than simply obeying a predetermined answer.
A hierarchical internal system tends to privilege certainty, authority, correctness, and control.
Creativity requires something much messier: curiosity, experimentation, uncertainty, responsiveness, and permission to not know.
So perhaps the question isn’t merely who is in charge inside me?
The more powerful question is, “What kind of internal system allows a human being to be both responsible and alive?”
I’m now consciously willing to linger and notice the possibilities available in the present moment. I’m willing to participate in the emergence of new ideas and new experiences.
I am no longer trying to replace one predetermined answer with another. I am becoming willing to discover what freedom asks of me.
What becomes possible when you stop asking what you should do long enough to discover what reality is asking of you?