Losing Control

If there is one thing the events of the past year has taught me, it’s to let go of the illusion of control. Restraint is still useful. So is influence. But if you spend too much time trying to control how things turn out, you’ll drive a lot of people crazy — starting with yourself.

See, along with the illusion of control comes the fear of not being in control. And with that fear, that boogeyman that Jesus warned us about: worry. “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” (Matthew 6:27) One of the main things that continues to leave me in awe about Jesus’ teachings are how practical they are, how rooted in how the world really works. From Matthew 6: 33-34:

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Jesus, in his infinite wisdom, knew that we really only have control over the journey of our own souls, through the choices we make. So much of what life throws at us is beyond our control. There’s no controlling a hurricane or an earthquake. No controlling a recession or plane crash. There are no guarantees that if you work hard at your marriage or raising your kids right, that it won’t go wrong and blow up in your face. None of us can say definitively that we’ll even see the end of this day.

So it begs the question: Why do anything? Why even try?

It’s all rooted in the powerful question each of us answers every day: “Who am I choosing to be in relationship to what’s happening around me?” (See the chapter: “My Will For You” in “A Message From God.”)Many of us answer this question without being aware that its been asked. But when you become aware of the question and answer it consciously, profound things happen. You begin to let go of attachment to outcomes — outcomes which you have no control over anyway. And you begin to embrace action for its own sake. Right action becomes its own reward. This principle is echoed in the brilliant wisdom of the ancient Hindu text, The Bhagavad Gita, specifically Chapter 4, Verses 19-20:

One is understood to be in full knowledge whose every act is devoid of desire for sense gratification. He is said by sages to be a worker whose fruitive action is burned up by the fire of perfect knowledge.
Abandoning all attachment to the results of his activities, ever satisfied and independent, he performs no fruitive action, although engaged in all kinds of undertakings.

I haven’t written about it in some time, but right now, I am in the midst of a horrific divorce. It’s a divorce I did not want, one I worked hard to avoid. Ultimately, I had no control over how things have proceeded. My estranged wife has custody of our daughter, whom I miss terribly — whom I never had any intention of being an absentee father to. There are still miles left to travel on this journey, across daunting terrain with many perils along the way. Ultimately, I have no control over how this will all shake out.

What I CAN control is this:

I can interact with my estranged wife without anger or malice. I can be polite and loving towards her, because true love requires nothing of its recipient. In the time that I get to spend with my daughter, I can work to be the best father I can be for her — I can laugh and play with her, give her encouragement, pray with her and tell her that no matter how much time we spend apart, I am always with her, and she with me.

I can meet the day with a smile. I can apply the principles of forgiveness that Jesus The Christ taught us. I can pray for everyone involved, and spread love as best I can. I can funnel all of the anguish and pain into an online book/multimedia project that seems to be touching lives around the world. I can use my life to try to improve the quality of life for those I come into contact with.

I have no control over the results of my actions, the fruit that these seeds will bear. All I can control is the act of planting them. It’s all I have.

And it’s enough.