CONTROL

Ah, control…The illusion of all illusions.
What is control, exactly?  Is it the ability to enforce others to our will?  Is it the ability not to react to pain, but to be as stoic as possible?  Is it the ability to make changes, or is it the ability to avoid them?
Is control activated when we dwell in our emotions, or ignore our emotions?  Is it mind over matter—spirit over concrete—or is it simply going with the flow?  Does having control quiet the mind, or make the mind hunger for more control?

What is this illusive entity, and why is everyone so obsessed with it?  People who are addicted to control—you know, the Control Freaks—cling to themselves, and dominate others when it seems they have the advantage.
They are so into control, they are out of control.

People who need to dominate others—dominate the space, dominate the visuals, and dominate the sound spectrum—are so out of control it drives them crazy.  They cannot control their own lives—they have no control over their family members, their friends, their behavior, or their habits—and in desperation of this painful truth, they grasp onto the unsuspecting and the naïve.
Give them an ear, and they will flood it with noise rambling out of their mouths.  Give them an eye, and they will fill your view by swelling.  Give them space, and they will throw their belongings everywhere to mark their territory. 

I notice that when I’m in control, I have no control at all.  My most controlled times are when I am floating through life, watching it unfold without reaction, and suspending judgment of the way it “should be”.
Truth is that “floating” thing happens seldom, for I am too busy trying to control my destiny, control my days, control my future, control wherever I’m headed next.  Yet, I have no control at all when life is loaded with unpredictable events. 

I stand at Point A and imagine how I will get to Point B.  I cannot come close to predicting how my path will weave, but I have plans for its weaving, nonetheless.  Sometimes my plans—my starting and stopping points—are what I intended.  But that is quite seldom.  Usually, a variety of unwanted scenes take center stage before me, and I am forced to wait for their completion—either that or I could throw a fit and attack whatever scene I didn’t write, or make room for.    

So, essentially, if all of us are out of control, if we cannot make the world bend to the path we have planned, then why do we try so hard?  It’s like we smash ourselves into our imaginary walls everyday, becoming frustrated and more addicted to our medicines.

Few know how to “let go” for more than a few minutes, and then the brain starts imagining the smooth transmission from A to B, the emotions start yearning for perfection, our desperation to enforce what we want drives us into a state of domination, and there we go again—out of control.

And make no mistake, when human beings are out of control, they are destructive.  Like the wild animals in the jungle—we become intense and insatiable. 

Maybe we should throw our hands into the air, do a few spins until we’re dizzy, and let our bodies fall to the ground.  Maybe then, we can let go of our need to control. 

After all, when we are in control, we are out of control.