The Ring Of Free Will

Rings of choice arise
Currents pull yet I still swim
Will moves through the tide

The Ring of Free Will

Where does choice begin? Is there a moment, a precise point, where we can say: I decided this? Or is every choice a culmination of past influences, biological drives, and subconscious forces, merely appearing as free will?

While walking, I find myself at a crossroads—literally and figuratively. The bridge over the creek is out. Do I turn back? I could, and in fact, I do. But is that a choice or simply the only available response? Disappointment flickers for a moment, but I let it go. It’s easy to let go when there’s no real alternative. But what about when there is? When do I actually choose, and when am I just following the natural slope of habit, conditioning, and past karma?

A few days ago, I was contemplating awareness itself—the awareness of doing something while doing it. That awareness felt like the thread running through everything, the force that turned an otherwise robotic existence into lived experience. And in that thread of first-person experience, is there free will?

I keep walking, aware of the sensation of movement, the coolness of the air, the shifting weight in my steps. My hand starts to ache. I switch my phone to the other hand. Was that my free will, or just my body acting out of self-preservation? If I override the body’s preference and keep holding the phone in the same hand—now is that free will? Or is that just another conditioned response, the need to exert control, to prove to myself that I have choice?

I imagine rings forming around me—the ring of habit, the ring of bodily urges, the ring of desire, the ring of resistance. Each ring influences the next. Each decision seems to arise from the interplay of these forces. Just as in meditation, where the rings of sensation and thought dissolve one by one until what remains is the most prominent awareness, the same is happening here. What is left when all the layers of influence dissolve?

Maybe free will is not about making individual decisions but about the will itself—the force that pushes forward, that drives life toward movement, toward meaning. It is not that I make each choice freely, but that I am propelled by something beyond conditioning, beyond karma, beyond the illusion of control.

And yet, my mind searches—always searching, stretching toward the horizon, reaching beyond itself. Expanding. Returning from duality to a happiness closer to non-duality.

A soccer ball lies in the grass. A football in the street. I notice them without meaning to, drawn into their presence as if by some unseen current. The mind wanders, then returns, gathering itself around this question again.

Is there free will?

Maybe the real question is not whether it exists, but how it feels to live as if it does.

What I mean is that whether or not free will truly exists in some absolute sense, we still experience life as if we are making choices. There is an undeniable felt sense of agency—of deciding to move, to speak, to act. Even if our decisions are influenced by conditioning, biology, and karma, we still experience them as ours.

So the question shifts: Instead of asking, Do I actually have free will?—which leads to an endless loop of philosophical analysis—we ask, What does it feel like to live as if I do?

To live as if free will exists is to step fully into the moment of choosing. To be present in the act of decision-making. To sense the forces shaping a choice while still embracing the feeling of authorship. To notice the tug of habit, the pull of desire, the weight of past conditioning—and yet, within all of that, to still lean into a sense of direction, of intentionality.

It’s the difference between being swept along unconsciously and being awake to the movement. Even if the river is carrying me, I can still experience myself as swimming.

This brings us to the heart of the experience: the difference between being lost in the current and being fully aware of the movement, even as it carries you.

There are moments when we become so engrossed in an activity—walking, speaking, working, even meditating—that we lose the awareness of doing it. The action continues, but the self-awareness fades. We are simply in it. This can feel effortless, like being in flow, but it can also mean slipping into unconscious patterns, where habit takes over and we no longer sense the choosing.

But then, there are moments when we wake up within the movement. We remember that we are walking, that we are speaking, that we are choosing. It’s not that we stop the flow—it’s that we become aware of the flow as it’s happening. Like realizing you’re dreaming while still inside the dream.

To live as if free will exists is to cultivate this awareness. To swim with the current, not just be carried by it. To know, I am here, moving, choosing—even as the river moves me. The current is real. The movement is happening.

But the awareness of moving—that changes everything.