Control

I have come to believe control is an illusion. At least, my previously held notion of control. The one seemingly anchored in emotional wellbeing and inextricably linked to perception, mood, and all matter of day-altering filters. Control as will. Control as attachment. Control as power over other.

This type of control, I have noticed, is a means by which I experience failure repeatedly. It's a set-up for disappointment... because events, nature, others, whathaveyou don't tend to actually be swayed by my whims, whines, or wishing. Nor are these things impressed by my knowledge, intelligence, dedication, or effort.

It's like the concept of variables in statistics and research. Typically, in stating whether one's research has yielded a result or finding that is statistically significant, one aspect to address are the variables over which one had no control... the extraneous variables that might have influenced the process in such a way that the findings are a bit muddied and therefore must be interpreted within a larger context (with room for error).

Within this error lies chaos. The very heart of life. We use the name chaos for things we cannot control. We ascribe chaos with negative connotations and anthropomorphize potential error as horned or fangy, dark and sinister, snakelike and lascivious with ill-intentioned lips curling below smoky, piercing eyes filled with mean naughtiness.

My little epiphany today was the culmination of a slow awakening to the fact that, for 37 years, I felt able (even entitled) to exert my will - and actually believed this had some sort of effect on the world around me. But it does not. The exertion is important, because it is an aspect of my experience I do control. My view of the world is important for the same reason. But my actual ability to control any aspect of my life save my own perception and making of meaning is pretty nonexistent.

It's those extraneous variables. Too many to number and downright infinite when you think about all the possible iterations involved in any given human interaction or decision you might make. It's like stepping into a quickly moving stream and expecting you will be able to force the water to move against its nature.

Rather than being a depressing realization, or something to lament, I find this new understanding of control somewhat freeing. I am/have been quite a control freak thus far, which means I spend a lot of time falling apart when things don't go my way and even more time beating myself up when what I want is not what is.

It's a big thing to let go of though... and I notice myself reluctant to truly relinquish the illusion in times of stress or difficulty. I notice I hold on even tighter - as if clenching my will around a desired outcome will somehow ensure its success. Lately, I try to laugh at myself when I do that... think about how silly I am being and use humor to gently pry myself away from a myopic insistence on an as-of-yet indeterminate conclusion.

Today, there is stillness and freedom in relinquishing control.

May you see through the facades of control and discover that which is yours to alter. May you experience freedom in letting go and letting be.

Willpower

I really want a brownie. They sit, deliciously, on the kitchen counter. Waiting and sure like the most popular girls at the party - knowing full well their seductive perfection will eventually break even the most stalwart around them.

My husband will eat one. Heated and topped with tasty ice cream flecked with real vanilla beans. He has been planning it since dinner, which was a belated Thanksgiving meal. Bloaty and voluminous... roasted chicken, pan gravy, zucchini spinach casserole, stuffing, and rolls. Good, but all too easy to dally in a bit too long.

Food has always been an ambiguous element in my life. From an early age, I was overweight, and I spent a very long time trying to figure out how my body really wanted to eat. Coupled with that was a generationally and perhaps metaphysically (and/or environmentally) inherited tendency to connect food with emotion: comfort, ease, safety, calm... a response to depression, shame, anxiety, and fear.

It's better now; I am more aware of those inner voices and the patterned chatter of my "bad choices" mind. This does not mean I no longer overeat or choose to answer sadness with chocolate—but I do so now with increased awareness and mindfulness. Which makes it impossible to pretend it's out of my control.

This weekend, I purchased Clean Food: A Seasonal Guide to Eating Close to the Source with More Than 200 Recipes for a Healthy and Sustainable You by Terry Walters. I had read an article somewhere highlighting the season's best cookbooks, and this one grabbed me with its whole foods emphasis and sustainability ideals.

What I did not realize was the author also understands the emotional attachment we so often connect to eating... and the book begins with a very honest discussion of what one can do in the face of his or her more negative eating patterns.

Interestingly, one day before seeing the book in the store and deciding to purchase it, I had spent four hours at the temple for a Thanksgiving retreat. This entailed silence and mindful practice during eating, then stretching, and then three hours of meditation. No eye contact, no speaking, and no negative thoughts.

At first, I found it odd to be sitting at a table with several other people actively engaged in a similar spiritual pursuit without making eye contact, smiling, or speaking with anyone. It seemed rude and unnatural to me.

But as I ate my evening snack, I realized how rare it is that I truly spend time with my food. It was just me and my bowl of selected vittles, and the silence enabled me to really experience my food and the process of eating moment by moment. It was quite a gift, because in the buzz and whir of my regular day it's somewhat impractical to take such time to savor, notice, ingest, and altogether know my food.

So I carry the lesson forward, notice I am over-full, and ultimately decide to forgo the scintillating brownies with their sexy Dutch cocoa and naughty chocolate chips. Maybe this is willpower. Maybe it's mindfulness. No matter what, I know I'll feel better for it in the morning.

Maybe your downfall is food too. Maybe it's smoking, drinking, sex, drugs, shopping, lying, hiding, or hostility. When something becomes a form of running away - when it replaces an experience and becomes hollow and empty in the doing - it might be time to think about what place it has in your life, how it actually makes you feel when you engage in it, and whether it's worth continuing.

May you feel empowered to say no when you need to. May you stay awake to your self, and take care of you accordingly.