Power: Against the Flow, With the Flow
When we talk about power today, especially in activist and academic circles, we often treat it like a fixed possession—something you either have or don’t. Some people are powerful, others are powerless. This binary framing, shaped by critical theories of race, gender, class, and history, has helped spotlight injustice. But it can also flatten our understanding of what power actually is and how it works in everyday life.
This page explores a smaller angle—one of many—from this broader project I'm developing on power as a nuanced and evolving phenomenon. Here, I want to ask: What if power sometimes means going against the flow, and other times, going with it?
This page explores a smaller angle—one of many—from this broader project I'm developing on power as a nuanced and evolving phenomenon. Here, I want to ask: What if power sometimes means going against the flow, and other times, going with it?
Image credit: Linken Van Zyl
Power as Resistance: Going Against the Flow
Most of us are familiar with the idea that power shows up when we resist. We see it when someone speaks up in a meeting where no one else dares to, or when a whistleblower exposes systemic wrongdoing. We see it when a person escapes a toxic relationship, challenges a law, or builds something new in a place where “that’s just not how things are done.”
This form of power is active, visible, and often disruptive. It’s about standing against the current, reshaping the environment, saying no when everyone else is saying yes—or saying yes when everyone else is saying no.
Think of Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat. Think of someone quietly working to rebuild their life after addiction, despite stigma and setbacks. Think, too, of a person practicing mindfulness, noticing a flood of anxious thoughts rise up uninvited—and choosing not to follow them. In both Buddhist practice and cognitive science, there’s growing recognition that many of our thoughts arise automatically, without conscious intent. To resist these patterned responses—to witness them without identifying with them, to say, “This is a thought, not the truth”—is a subtle but profound act of inner power. All of these are forms of power that show up in resistance, transformation, and deliberate effort.
But this isn’t the only kind of power there is.
Power as Acceptance: Going With the Flow
There’s another form of power—quieter, subtler, and often overlooked—that lies in acceptance. Not passive resignation, but active, courageous letting go. This is the kind of power that comes from aligning with reality instead of endlessly trying to fight it.
Aging is one example. The world is full of messages that aging is a problem to solve. Entire industries profit from the fear of wrinkles, slowness, and change. But what if true power, in this case, is not in resisting aging, but in embracing it?
To accept that the body will change, to grieve what must be grieved, and still live fully—this is a different kind of strength. It’s the power of presence, not performance. And in many ways, it’s harder to cultivate than the power of resistance, because it asks us not to fix but to stay.
The same kind of power can emerge in how we relate to our inner lives. In mindfulness practice, there’s a moment when we stop trying to control our thoughts and emotions and instead let them come and go like weather. This isn’t the same as drifting mindlessly—it’s an alert kind of surrender, a willingness to ride the waves without mistaking them for who we are. There’s power in not clinging, not pushing away, not needing to manage every mental storm. It’s the quiet strength of allowing what is, without being pulled under by it.
This is the kind of discernment echoed in the Serenity Prayer, often quoted in recovery circles: “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” That wisdom—to tell the difference—is itself a form of power. It means living with intention, choosing where to stand firm and where to soften. It means letting go without giving up.
A Buddhist Perspective: Flow Without Struggle
In Buddhism, there’s a deep understanding of the impermanence of all things. Everything flows—feelings, identities, seasons, lives. To fight this flow endlessly is to suffer. To align with it is to see clearly, and perhaps even to be free.
There’s a well-known teaching in Buddhism: “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” Power, in this light, is not the ability to eliminate pain or control everything. It’s the ability to remain steady and open in the face of change. It’s recognizing that we are not outside the flow, but part of it—and that how we relate to it matters.
This kind of power doesn’t look dramatic. It doesn’t always make headlines. But it changes people, and through people, it changes the world.
Both Are Power
So, is power resistance? Yes. Is it also acceptance? Also yes.
To live powerfully, perhaps, is to learn when to go against the flow—and when to go with it. To discern whether the situation calls for action or surrender, building or yielding. And to recognize that both can take courage. Both can be transformative. And both are necessary.
Power is not always about control, domination, or even defiance. Sometimes, it is about harmony, humility, and grace. The most powerful people are not always the ones shouting from the rooftops, but the ones who have learned how to swim with the current when the river calls for it—and to climb the bank when it doesn't.
Power as Resistance: Going Against the Flow
Most of us are familiar with the idea that power shows up when we resist. We see it when someone speaks up in a meeting where no one else dares to, or when a whistleblower exposes systemic wrongdoing. We see it when a person escapes a toxic relationship, challenges a law, or builds something new in a place where “that’s just not how things are done.”
This form of power is active, visible, and often disruptive. It’s about standing against the current, reshaping the environment, saying no when everyone else is saying yes—or saying yes when everyone else is saying no.
Think of Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat. Think of someone quietly working to rebuild their life after addiction, despite stigma and setbacks. Think, too, of a person practicing mindfulness, noticing a flood of anxious thoughts rise up uninvited—and choosing not to follow them. In both Buddhist practice and cognitive science, there’s growing recognition that many of our thoughts arise automatically, without conscious intent. To resist these patterned responses—to witness them without identifying with them, to say, “This is a thought, not the truth”—is a subtle but profound act of inner power. All of these are forms of power that show up in resistance, transformation, and deliberate effort.
But this isn’t the only kind of power there is.
Power as Acceptance: Going With the Flow
There’s another form of power—quieter, subtler, and often overlooked—that lies in acceptance. Not passive resignation, but active, courageous letting go. This is the kind of power that comes from aligning with reality instead of endlessly trying to fight it.
Aging is one example. The world is full of messages that aging is a problem to solve. Entire industries profit from the fear of wrinkles, slowness, and change. But what if true power, in this case, is not in resisting aging, but in embracing it?
To accept that the body will change, to grieve what must be grieved, and still live fully—this is a different kind of strength. It’s the power of presence, not performance. And in many ways, it’s harder to cultivate than the power of resistance, because it asks us not to fix but to stay.
The same kind of power can emerge in how we relate to our inner lives. In mindfulness practice, there’s a moment when we stop trying to control our thoughts and emotions and instead let them come and go like weather. This isn’t the same as drifting mindlessly—it’s an alert kind of surrender, a willingness to ride the waves without mistaking them for who we are. There’s power in not clinging, not pushing away, not needing to manage every mental storm. It’s the quiet strength of allowing what is, without being pulled under by it.
This is the kind of discernment echoed in the Serenity Prayer, often quoted in recovery circles: “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” That wisdom—to tell the difference—is itself a form of power. It means living with intention, choosing where to stand firm and where to soften. It means letting go without giving up.
A Buddhist Perspective: Flow Without Struggle
In Buddhism, there’s a deep understanding of the impermanence of all things. Everything flows—feelings, identities, seasons, lives. To fight this flow endlessly is to suffer. To align with it is to see clearly, and perhaps even to be free.
There’s a well-known teaching in Buddhism: “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” Power, in this light, is not the ability to eliminate pain or control everything. It’s the ability to remain steady and open in the face of change. It’s recognizing that we are not outside the flow, but part of it—and that how we relate to it matters.
This kind of power doesn’t look dramatic. It doesn’t always make headlines. But it changes people, and through people, it changes the world.
Both Are Power
So, is power resistance? Yes. Is it also acceptance? Also yes.
To live powerfully, perhaps, is to learn when to go against the flow—and when to go with it. To discern whether the situation calls for action or surrender, building or yielding. And to recognize that both can take courage. Both can be transformative. And both are necessary.
Power is not always about control, domination, or even defiance. Sometimes, it is about harmony, humility, and grace. The most powerful people are not always the ones shouting from the rooftops, but the ones who have learned how to swim with the current when the river calls for it—and to climb the bank when it doesn't.