This morning, I jogged around the lake close to my home. The foggy cold paralyzed my senses momentarily. But, once my blood felt safe to actually circulate throughout the entirety of my body and I could feel my ears again, I began to hear conversations from some people I passed on the path. Since I am only an accidental eavesdropper, I caught just a few random words and phrases, but one sentence seemed to stick out.
An older couple walked towards me at a brisk pace. They matched in their puffy down jackets, black jogging pants and gray beanie hats. They leaned their heads in toward one another, while their arms pumped and their warmed breath smoked around them. The woman spoke rather loudly to the man, probably from the physical exertion and of course the thick wool caps covering their ears. Just as they passed, she exhaled “the sad thing is, there is nothing you can do.” Without context or any extreme inflection in her voice, I had no immediate emotion or image to anchor the words. I guess there was a bit of concern in her manner, maybe a hint of frustration. For the most part, the words appeared to have been thrown out there, more of a figure of speech or something to be said because there was nothing else left to say.
As I continued past the couple, I slowed to a walk. My brain definitely tends to function at a slightly higher level when it’s not figuring how to conserve as much energy as possible while immersed in an aerobic workout (jogging) and not simultaneously providing a continuous stream of arguments against the benefits of the aerobic activity (jogging). With the walking decision made, my thoughts turned toward the statement I had heard. “The sad thing is, there is nothing you can do.” Applied as a universal concept, I look at this sentence as potentially limiting and definitely just a matter of perspective. Assuming that the latter part of this statement is correct “there is nothing you can do”, does that lack of control make it a “sad thing?” Or does the realization that you have no control in a situation equal another emotional realization besides sadness, dependent on the circumstances? This could be anything from extreme anger to extreme tranquility.
Or does the realization that you have no control in a situation present a different perspective all together that suggests that “control” is conceptual, self created, system binding, defined inaccurately, a root of “how” humans are taught to think (along the lines of opposites – control vs no control). Taking the perspective further, could it be suggested that we are deluded to think that we have control and we only think we do because we don’t want to think that we don’t? But are those two extremes of having and not having the only choices available to us?
I had asked in an earlier blog post ‘what can you control?’ and provided a possible answer, ‘you control you.’ Perhaps adjusting the definition of “control” would help to align the concept I was talking about before and the concept I am talking about now. That is the concept of awareness, becoming aware of situations, intentions, and ultimately decisions. This includes an individual’s involvement in that process, in order to engage one in one’s path, choices, actions and reactions. The awareness concept addresses all of the details and hues of “control” as we may perceive the word, but without the lockdown effect of the word’s enactment.
So, released from a definition, the perspective is left without the influence of “control vs no control.” The perspective is no longer in the same language, color scheme, style, landscape, etc since the normal definition of “control” wasn’t even in the foundation. That’s kind of refreshing. The perspective does not need to go through the “control/no control” rigid filter to arrive at the initial understanding or direction.
Getting back to the sentence with this definition release – “The sad thing is, there is nothing you can do” – the statement then becomes a simple awareness of the situation and a reflection of one’s choice within it. An act; a movement; another step on the path.
© M.R.Collier, A Way of Your Own, 2013