Some days it’s easy to live in the illusion of control. We can go about the day stepping through our routines and well loved habits with familiarity. Yes this can lead to stability, but it can simultaneously foster a false sense of power over external circumstances.
Truthfully, our reach is very limited. With awareness, we can choose our reactions to events. With intention, we can shape our actions. The hope is our small influence ripples out into the greater environments while impacting things that happen to us in those environments. That’s really all we got.
It’s as if we’re holding a small ribbon, to which a balloon is tethered. We feel protective ownership of this fragile object. Suddenly we navigate the world with awareness, thinking of where we step, how quickly we move and what impact our trajectory will have on our balloon.
That little orb floats high above us, passing through clouds that we will never touch. It may slip from between our fingers, or get caught in a branch we didn’t see. Even if we preserve it, time will have the last word. Eventually the helium inside loses its luster causing the firm latex to shift into an unrecognizable state.
We understand the risks we take when we handle balloons. Yet we act as though our grip has any more sway over the vast expression of the universe.
Recently I’ve been reminded of the folly that is control. It came to me on Monday when I was sitting in the doctor’s office with my parents, waiting for someone to come in and give us x-ray results. I had been up since 5:15 AM so I could criss-cross the city, drive up and down town to get my parents to the hospital by 7:00AM. The hospital is huge—it encompasses every sort of medical need, yet the parking lot is a stretch of concrete that is often full to the brim with cars. By 8:30 in the morning people are staking out rows of parking, ready to jump at a pair of illuminated reverse lights.
As soon as you arrive, there is a feeling of scarcity. They have better parking lots for the average Target. It is a microcosm of society and the emphasis is clear. Before you can even step foot in the building, you are reminded of how broken the health system is and just how powerless you are within it.
All day every day the body should be revered as the sacred vessel for the spirit. But we are forced to divorce from that fact when we have to struggle to find basic care for it. I felt the weight of a broken system weighing down on an entire society. The ripple effects tumbled out in front of me, so numerous and I yet couldn’t even find a parking space.
The doctor’s office was chilly. I wrapped my sweater tight and crossed my arms over my chest, sloping my chin forward slightly to fold in some body heat. This huddled position caused me to close my eyes.
That little act brought me to a space beyond the fluorescent perimeter of the hospital.
The stillness beckoned me in. I felt myself drift away from the personality that was so worn down by circumstance. In the dark space behind my eyelids I loosened the narrative that had wound around my already upset stomach. The expanse within was beyond any structure or system, it was the eternal heartbeat that needed no introduction. I was reminded of the depths that I couldn’t see, the realms that flow with abundance. The places that will always be there, will be there when everything man built has crumbled.
Opening my eyes, nothing had changed. But my view was very different. I was sharply aware of the temporary nature of the moment. The separation between the limitless self and the limited scope of the healthcare system. I couldn’t change the current circumstance. I wasn’t operating in the illusion of control, but I was grounded in the only constant.
This space can be accessed any time. With practice you can reach into it no matter where you are. While I wasn’t expecting to find it, I know it found me because I’ve been opening myself up to it for years in the daily act of meditation. It’s never about escape, but understanding the levels of presence at play in every moment.
Wherever you are, there is more to you than you’ll ever know.
And that’s the kind of unknown that I like.
xx
James
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