Finding the Indestructible Through Repeated Surrender
Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible in us be found. — Pema Chödrön
—What lingers after this line?
One-minute reflection
What's one small action this suggests?
A Radical Path to Inner Strength
Pema Chödrön’s line hinges on an unsettling premise: what lasts in us is not discovered by protecting ourselves, but by repeatedly meeting what feels like our end. “Annihilation” here is less a literal destruction than the experience of being undone—when certainty collapses, identity feels threatened, and the usual coping strategies fail. Paradoxically, she suggests that this very undoing can reveal a deeper stability beneath our habits and self-images. From the outset, the quote reframes resilience as something earned through exposure rather than avoidance. Instead of asking how to stay intact, it asks what remains when the parts of us that insist on control are allowed to fall away.
What “Annihilation” Looks Like in Daily Life
In practice, annihilation often arrives in ordinary forms: an honest criticism that punctures our self-concept, a breakup that strips away a role we relied on, or a failure that makes our competence feel like a fiction. Even smaller moments—sitting with embarrassment without rushing to explain it away—can feel like a kind of ego-death, because they deny the self its preferred narrative. This is why Chödrön emphasizes “over and over.” One exposure might be written off as bad luck, but repetition becomes training. Each time we stay present with the discomfort instead of fleeing it, we learn firsthand that the feared collapse is survivable—and that something quieter and sturdier can begin to show itself.
The Buddhist Lens: Letting the Self Loosen
Chödrön writes from a Buddhist perspective in which clinging to a fixed self is a major source of suffering, a theme also developed in texts like the Anattalakkhana Sutta (early Buddhism), which challenges the idea of a permanent, controllable “I.” When circumstances “annihilate” our preferred identity—successful person, good partner, admired expert—Buddhist practice invites us not to rebuild the mask immediately, but to observe the experience with clarity. As this observation deepens, the self is seen as more fluid than assumed: sensations, thoughts, and emotions arise and pass. Transitioning from that insight, the question becomes less “How do I restore my old solidity?” and more “What is aware of all this change without being destroyed by it?”
Fear as a Gatekeeper to the Real
The dread of annihilation is often the mind’s alarm system protecting attachment: to approval, to control, to being right, to being safe from uncertainty. Yet fear can also function like a doorway. When we stop treating fear as a command to retreat and instead treat it as information—tightness in the chest, heat in the face, racing thoughts—we discover that fear is intense but not absolute. Then a subtle shift occurs: we begin to disentangle the raw sensations from the story that says, “This will ruin me.” That disentangling is crucial, because it makes room to perceive an underlying capacity: the ability to feel fully without being erased by feeling.
How the “Indestructible” Reveals Itself
What Chödrön calls “indestructible” is not a hardened shell; it is the basic capacity to experience—awareness, compassion, and openness that do not depend on circumstances going our way. When the usual supports drop, we may notice a simple fact: grief is present, but so is the ability to breathe; shame is present, but so is the ability to witness it without violence; uncertainty is present, but so is the ability to remain. In this light, indestructibility is discovered not as invulnerability, but as non-collapse. The self-image may break, yet the capacity to meet life—moment by moment—remains accessible.
Practicing Exposure Without Self-Harm
Still, the quote does not glorify reckless suffering. Exposure can be wise and graduated: telling one truthful sentence instead of performing, staying in a difficult conversation for two more minutes, or allowing a feeling to crest without numbing it. Modern therapeutic approaches echo this measured stance—exposure-based therapies in psychology use titrated contact with feared experiences to reduce avoidance and build adaptive capacity. Over time, these small acts accumulate into a new kind of confidence: not that pain won’t come, but that we can relate to pain without disappearing into it. That is how repeated “annihilation,” approached with care, can become the strange route by which the indestructible in us is finally found.