Why You Must Accept the Unacceptable if You Want Anything to Change

If people are thoughtful about the five spaces on the path to gratitude (Awareness, Allowance, Acceptance, Appreciation, and Attitude toward gratitude), there's a stage they almost always wrestle with: the difference between accepting something and saying that thing is acceptable.

There is a world to be discovered in acceptance as an act of presence rather than acceptance as a passive endorsement. How can we accept reality as it is—fully seeing it without denial—while believing it is unacceptable as a long-term state?

But to engage here, we need to establish some ground rules.

While we discuss this (I write, you read), we both need to go into this endeavor, understanding that the best we can hope for will be a nod in the direction of an answer. Nothing definitive will come from what I write and/or what you read. Said another way, we will never get it perfectly clear in language.

Language is like a net we cast over life. It lets us catch pieces of it, hold it, analyze it, and turn it over in our hands. We can work with what we language, but life is too big to be captured whole. At best, language captures enough to be helpful. At worst, we pretend what we've caught represents the entire picture (worse yet, we pretend it is the whole picture).

There's a reason paradoxes exist. They aren't bugs in our thinking. They are features of language itself—a reflection of the gap between reality and the words we use to describe (or create) it. Paradoxes demand we experience the chaos of existence, untethered from the safety language provides. I think of the John Shedd quote, "A ship in harbor is safe, but that's not what ships are for." A good paradox forces us to sea (pun, very much intended).

To continue with this metaphor a bit longer, meditation is a reliable method of sailing those seas. While Socratic dialogues are wonderful and incredibly useful for sorting through new ideas, meditation offers the benefit of transcending the need for language altogether. Language is a map or a compass that provides direction, but they are not the ocean. Maps and compasses are invaluable when sailing but are not the same as the journey or destination.

A paradox points us toward a new world that can be explored through meditation.

The Paradox

As I teach mindfulness as a pathway to gratitude for people, there are a few spots where people reliably get tripped up, and this is one.

Accepting something and saying it's acceptable is not the same thing. In fact, confusing them is one of the biggest obstacles to effective action, both personally and socially.

There's a space in meditation (not readily available in language) where you can fully accept things as they are—the pain, the injustice, the mess of the moment—without leaping to saying, "This is fine. This should stay this way. This is acceptable."

This is where many people misunderstand mindfulness, activism, and even history.

Acceptance Is Not Endorsement

Since we are starting with language, let's distinguish the spaces:

To accept something is to acknowledge reality fully, without resistance or denial. It means seeing things clearly—without the filter of how we wish they were. It means feeling the emotions that arise in response—rage, grief, disappointment—without pushing them away or letting them control us.
Saying something is acceptable, on the other hand, is a moral judgment. It implies that the status quo is okay, no change is necessary, we should let things be, and we are willing to live with things as they are.

The paradox lives in the tension between these spaces, and it's only in it's resolution that any change or transformation is possible. It's not too much to say you must accept reality as it is to change it. Otherwise, you're fighting an illusion, not the actual problem.

History's Greatest Changemakers Mastered This Paradox

The most powerful movements for justice and social change were built not on denial but on radical acceptance of reality paired with two things:

1. An unwavering commitment to reality's impermanence.

2. Clarity that only through acceptance could a new future be created.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. saw racism in America for exactly what it was. He didn't catastrophize nor ignore the suffering. He also didn't let reality paralyze him. He accepted the conditions as they were so he could act effectively to change them.
Nelson Mandela spent 27 years in prison. He accepted his imprisonment—not in agreement with it, but in acknowledging it as his reality. That acceptance allowed him to use the time to cultivate wisdom rather than be consumed by hatred. His clarity made his eventual leadership possible.
Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese monk and activist, did not deny the suffering of the Vietnam War. He accepted it thoroughly and dedicated his life to peace work, refusing to let acceptance turn into apathy. He called this engaged mindfulness: the practice of being fully present with suffering while working to transform it.

Morality is a Way to Resist Reality

Some people don't like this notion, but that doesn't make it any less accurate.

Labeling events as "good/bad" or "fair/unfair" adds a subjective layer to objective reality. This judgment amplifies suffering by framing situations as morally intolerable, which fuels resistance. Reality is neither good nor bad. Reality just is. Until you get yourself there, you are still resisting. For example, Calling a job loss "unfair" fixates on the injustice, whereas acknowledging it as a neutral fact ("This happened") allows you to pivot toward problem-solving.

In contrast, ethical action (e.g., addressing harm) is distinct from moralizing. The former responds to reality, and the latter resists it by clinging to "shoulds." Example: Advocating for climate policies (ethical) vs. condemning polluters as "evil" (moralizing).

Again, we are in a potential language trap, one best distinguished through reflection, but as a map/definition of why morality hinders and ethics empowers, you could use this:

Moralizing tends to impose one's personal judgments of good/bad, right/wrong, and pretending that they are inherent in the situation, e.g., they are evil, this is good, etc. The moment we pretend those judgments are objective, problems arise. Morals are a human construct and are never inherent.
Ethics, while also a human construct, tends to be more readily acknowledged as such. Ethics are more easily seen as added on after one sees the reality.

Being responsible for these two different worlds is what allows a doctor to treat a patient they have a moral problem with simply because it is an ethical thing to do.

Morals ask, "Is this right?"

Ethics ask, "What would help?"

In the paradox, ethics align with accepting reality to act effectively. At the same time, moralizing often becomes a form of resistance—a refusal to engage with the world as it is.

Mindfulness as a Tool for Change, Not Complacency

Acceptance is not complacency. It's clarity: "This is the situation. Now, what can I do?" Resisting reality manifests as rumination or blame, not action.

People think equanimity is about passivity—about sitting back and letting things be. True mindfulness is about developing a presence so that one can respond wisely and effectively.

Mahatma Gandhi's Salt March (1930) was a masterclass in nonviolent action based on mindful acceptance. The British colonial government imposed an oppressive salt tax on India, making it illegal for Indians to produce their own salt. Rather than reacting with anger or violence, Gandhi accepted the reality of British rule—but not as something acceptable. He chose to walk 240 miles to the Arabian Sea, where he symbolically collected salt, breaking the law without aggression. This act of nonviolent defiance galvanized a nation and demonstrated the immense power of mindful, strategic action.

Viktor Frankl was imprisoned in Auschwitz, a reality so brutal that denial or despair seemed like the only option. But Frankl neither collapsed into hopelessness nor deceived himself about his suffering. He accepted the reality of his imprisonment but refused to let it define his inner world. He found meaning in how he responded—choosing to maintain dignity, offering kindness where possible, and imagining a future beyond the camp. His ability to fully acknowledge suffering without succumbing to it became a model for resilience and transformation. As he concluded in Man's Search for Meaning: "When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves."

Acceptance is not acquiescence, and it is not synonymous with surrender. It means that once you accept what is, you free up all your energy to focus on what's next.

So, how do we practice this in daily life?

Acknowledge the present reality fully. No sugarcoating. No avoidance.
Let go of the fantasy that reality should be different in this moment. It is what it is. Fighting that fact creates suffering. Try this thought while meditating: "This is how things have come to be for me so far."
Decide how to engage. Acceptance doesn't mean sitting back; it means responding vs reacting.

Acceptance Is a Foundation, Not a Finish Line

Acceptance is the soil, not the ceiling. Cultures and individuals who thrive in adversity don't deny reality—they use mindfulness to see clearly and act with precision. As Frankl wrote, even in suffering, we retain the freedom to choose our response. Mindfulness isn't about sitting still; it's about seeing the storm and then learning to dance in the rain or build a shelter.

So, yes—accept the world as it is. But never mistake that for saying it should stay this way.