Category: Note to Self

On Control: a Conversation with Myself

Instead of trying to control the people around you, which is ultimately impossible, why not try controlling yourself?

If you say, “My experience depends on this person. So I have to persuade, indoctrinate, contain, or otherwise influence her* in order to feel alright,” you are in for some roller coaster-level misery.

She has individual hopes, dreams, fears, agendas, desires, and wants to feel good just like you. So she’s faced with similar decisions: does she choose to control conditions or herself? Chances are, she’s thinking, “My experience depends on him. So I have to persuade . . . “

Trying to push all that she is into a box and keep it there disregards (and disrespects) her. Moreover, it’s ultimately impossible. She will break out and do her own thing. People hate to be controlled, even if you think you know what’s good for them. And your personal preferences are certainly not the only right ones.

“But if I don’t take some kind of action, she’ll hurt me.” Maybe. If you allow it. But this is also a question of self-control. Marcus Aurelius writes something about this in The Meditations: “Choose not to be harmed and you won’t feel harmed. Don’t feel harmed and you haven’t been.” It’s very much up to you how you feel—not up to the multitude of people who’d like to influence you in a particular way. You’re the only one doing the feeling.

No one can push a feeling into you. You allow it to arise inside yourself. And you can accept it or reject it, change it or embrace it. It’s all you. Nothing is happening to you. Everything is happening within you—with your implicit permission. Realizing this is the first step toward having a little peace of mind. It also makes your relationships better over time. You’re in charge.

“But if she hadn’t done the things she did, I wouldn’t be in this position.” That may be true, but no one lives in a sealed, pristine environment where everyone is selfless and accommodating. We live in a world of friction and contrast with individuals determined to seek their own freedom and truth. That’s what makes people so interesting. It’s also what makes us want greater control over our experiences. Nevertheless, trying to do this by controlling others and the conditions around us is misguided.

What’s the alternative? Think of three things. One, stop complaining and whining, as if mommy’s going to run over and fix things. Mommy never actually did. And now that you’re older, the world isn’t going to act like a surrogate mommy. As is often said, nobody’s coming to save you—you make your experiences from the substance of your attitudes and perceptions. Character really is destiny. So accept responsibility for your life and then change it from within, without complaining.

Two, get your head straight. You are not a victim. Even people who are physically harmed by others can choose not to be victims. Survivors of violence are often some of the strongest people—not necessarily physically strong, but strong in mind and spirit. Victimhood requires your acquiescence and participation. Don’t participate in that. Choose not to be harmed without trying to force others into submission.

And three, your imagination is your greatest attribute; use it. Focus on what you want in order to associate yourself with it more intimately. This includes your relationships with others. If you focus on the things you find pleasing in others, you don’t have to cajole and manipulate them into behaving the way you want.

In a broader sense, this applies to all life and it’s not New Age foolery. It’s just the power of imagination applied to attention. Let confirmation bias work for you instead of against you. In short, the more you imagine something and look for it in the world, the more you’ll notice it and wind up interacting with it. Selective attention is a real thing. And it, too, is a choice synonymous with mindful self-control.

In Polishing the Mirror, Ram Dass writes, “If somebody . . . is a problem for you, they’re not the one who needs to change. If someone is a problem for you, it’s you who needs to change. If you feel they’re causing you trouble, that’s your problem. It’s on you. Your job is to clear yourself.”

You’re living your best life. You’re in heaven right now. You just have to see it. And, if you can, you’ll fall in love with everyone because you’ll realize they are just like you—trying to find relief, trying to find meaning, trying to rise above the fog of their inner confusion and drama. Don’t get in their way. Don’t get in your own way. Let others be free and so free yourself.

*Pronouns are always a problem. I’m randomly picking the female one so as not to have to butcher the English language. This isn’t about anyone in particular.

The Way of All Things

Wherein I give myself a stern talking to . . . 

“I’m lost. Life makes no sense. It’s unfair.”

Because, deep down, you have beliefs.  You believe it should be different. The problem is not the world or your life. Those things are nature—formless, amoral, apolitical, adogmatic, unorthodox, unpredictable, beyond systems and formulas, always changing.  The problem is you.

Confront life as it is, not as you wish or assume it to be. Nature can seem like anything.  It wears billions of masks, but it has no root form, no core shape. This is hard to accept because it means you have to let go of yourself, the person you think you are, your hopes and dreams, your loves and hates, your stupid temporary identity (which will only last for around 80 years if you’re lucky and eat your spinach).  Otherwise, cling to “only if” and “should” and “must” and suffer accordingly.

People will enjoy making you feel worse: “Stop complaining. The world doesn’t owe you anything” (which is hypocritical because saying that is, in itself, a complaint). But they’re right. The world can’t owe you anything because it doesn’t run on debits and credits. Only human simulations of the world (economics, education, law, marriage, honor, revenge, career, politics, Christianity) work like that.  Only humans feel entitled, chosen, predestined, owed, special, singled out. It’s easy to believe that life is like a bank account, when it’s more like senior prom: frustration, tacky formalwear, mean girls, heartbreak, and cheap booze in the parking lot.

Remember, the world is formless. It’s obvious in weather or animal life. Fly a kite today and sing in the wind.  Tomorrow, run for the basement when the tornado comes to tear off your roof.  Make friends with a tiger today, but know that he might eat you tomorrow. It’s not personal; Simba was just hungry. It can’t be personal. The tornado doesn’t hate you.  It’s not about what you want or don’t want or what you’ve done or what you deserve.

You are not powerless. You can change some things—for a time. Sometimes, the house you build withstands the storm. Sometimes, your hopes are confirmed. Sometimes, your hard training pays off. But your accomplishments are still subject to change. The house will eventually crumble. Fate will eventually favor someone else. No matter how hard you practice, a contender will eventually become the champion you once were. 

It’s inevitable. Axiomatic. It’s the way things are. And one may cry, “Haven’t I sacrificed enough—everything—for this?”  But the world just shrugs: “And didn’t you build a really nice house? Didn’t you get all the books you asked for? Weren’t you eventually able to run that marathon?”  Maybe you’re clever.  Maybe you’re a gifted athlete or an inspired artist.  But you are still mortal, still finite, still as subject to change as the house itself. You, too, will collapse into different forms.

If you don’t like this, who’d blame you?  You’d prefer to be changeless and perfect, to have perfect justice, to be satisfied one-hundred percent of the time.  But the only way forward is to accept the chaos (which is to say, the formless changeability) of life. Let go of quantification, of definitive conclusions and metrics, of belief and “should,” and see the world qualitatively, like a child.  Then the paths of life will open effortlessly for you and the gods will call you wise.