The Myth of Control

I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of control and the contrast between getting into the flow and trying to control things these past few weeks when I’ve taken time off from my usual routines. I’m glad to be back and getting back into my writing feels like it bangs up against these ideas.

I’ve been observing the ways in which I, and the people around me, work to control the circumstances of their lives. We all do this. I think because we are afraid. Afraid of the unknown. Afraid of boogeymen who might reach out from the shadows and negatively affect our lives. Afraid of not knowing what to do if circumstances change. Afraid of our feelings, especially the intense ones that might rise up within us if our circumstances change too much.

We try to control our lives by avoiding things that might turn unpleasant, and by frontloading our circumstances as much as we can by following the advice of experts who tell us ways to avoid unpleasantness down the line. For example, we may avoid seemingly dangerous activities like sky-diving or rock climbing. We frontload and try to control our circumstances by doing things like getting our annual medical check-ups, buying insurance, or adhering to a diet that we believe will keep us healthy.

Entire industries have grown up around our fears. And we really, truly believe in the power of these actions to keep us safe. Yet, both control strategies have severe limitations.

First of all, the list of things to avoid gets longer each year and sometimes reaches ridiculous levels, as when people avoid elevators or avoid going outside (Might get sunburn. Might get a mosquito bite. Might twist an ankle. Might encounter a bad person.). We experiment less and move more slowly as the years go by. And the rituals we engage to frontload our circumstances can become onerous or even verge on mental illness. Think, for example, of the sense of anxiety you might feel if you miss a day of taking your medicine or how lost you might feel if you take a different route to work one morning.

Our lives tend to get narrower and smaller as we find more things to fear and as we lock onto the rituals we believe will keep us safe. We live our lives from one grab at control to the next. We forget that we did not come here to control the circumstances of the world but to co-create them.

Our fears arise from the perspective of separation, an aspect of what Paul Levy refers to as the Wetiko Mind Virus. If we are separate from the world and the other people in it, it makes sense to try to maintain our sense of being in control of both the circumstances and the people around us. If we do the right things and avoid all the potentially dangerous things, we will live happy, healthy lives. If we convince the other people around us to think and feel the same ways we do (to accurately play the roles we have assigned to them), we will live conflict-free, uncontroversial, safe lives.

Here’s the problem with that. Our control methods, if they work at all, have only partial and temporary effects. No matter how hard we believe in them. No matter how hard we push them.

We cannot exert total control over the world. We cannot make ourselves totally safe. (I’m sorry but we are all still going to die.) We cannot make our world or the people in it behave in our preferred ways. But, like I said above, we didn’t come here to control the world. Our drive to control our world is a survival-oriented drive that arises from our subconscious minds. The subconscious has two functions: 1- to establish patterns, and 2- to keep us safe. All of our control urges are driven by these two functions. If we step out of the comfort of our avoidance and frontloading rituals, the subconscious sends out loud alarm signals that often feel like unbearable anxiety.

We have a natural tendency to control. But what if we have misdirected it? What if our efforts to control our circumstances and the people around us—even though it seems to be how the world goes round—is a mistake? What if we could lift ourselves out of our survival reactions and begin to see ourselves as co-creators?

What if, instead of trying to bend the world to our liking, we learned instead to control our own anxiety? What if we applied our efforts to trying to understand how our survival mechanisms sway our thoughts, ignite our emotions, and impact the chemistry of our bodies?

What if, instead of trying to control the circumstances of our lives, we applied our efforts to trying to understand the deeper implications of the almost universal ancient teaching (which is increasingly supported by the most advanced science) that we are not separate, not isolated, not hidden from each other?

What would our world, and the people in it, look like if we saw ourselves as co-creating (and not merely observing or reacting to) that world?

I’d love to hear your thoughts about this.