Letting Go
Photo by Colton Duke on Unsplash
I am going on a Vipassana retreat this week. Ten days and nights of silent meditation, sharing a dormitory with men I will not be able to speak to. No books, no writing, no phone, no recreation. The most common refrain I hear when sharing this is ‘I wish I could do that’. It was similar for me when last year a dear friend went on one. Their experience gave me pause to wonder what it would be like. What will I find inside? I am going with no desire or plan, merely to see what I find in myself.
I will be letting go of control.
Recently my interactions and conversations have revolved around control. Defences are often erected as a sense of control. Something scary happens when we are young, we do not know how to deal with it, so we create a narrative that allows us to feel safe. I think of the young child who was attacked at boarding school by older children. No parents or family to turn to, what will keep them safe? They decided to lean into the teachers and authority figures. They cleverly ensured the teachers saw them constantly, they worked out what the teachers wanted and they befriended them. They learnt to fit in in the adult world, using empathy, humour, and through listening. They learnt how to be valued by the teachers more than the other children. The child also decided to protect all their young and vulnerable peers by acting older and bigger than they were. This narrative worked by manifesting a larger and more powerful self-image. The result? The child fought those influential elder children, in the corridors, on the game’s pitches, and the teachers would intervene. The control worked, the teachers looked after their needs, the older kids backed off as bullies always do.
Fast forward decades, the child is an adult, and the control has changed in form yet not in nature. Seeming no longer alone and vulnerable in the world, the adult has developed their successful career by seeking out the powerful and influential and ensuring they see them. What worked then continued until now.
Photo by Andrew Yurkiv on Unsplash
A realisation occurred over time and through recent trauma, that the control is illusory and because it is impossible, therefore pointless. The reality is there is no control, we do not know what will happen in the next seconds let alone years. We can plan and arrange, yet often we kid ourselves that we are in control. As Tyson said, “everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth”. On a more sober note, I listened to someone describe how their billionaire friend tried to hang themself during the pandemic. In realising the inability to control life, they tried to control their death. I wonder if their universe decided it was not their time to go.
The illusion of control affects us all.
I was fortunate enough to volunteer for The Listening Place, an in-person suicide prevention charity. Throughout the rigorous training we were unconsciously taught to let go of control and just listen. The visitor (as clients are called) journey works like this, over three months or longer, the suicidal visitor explores their angst and often comes to a place of peacefully letting go of the hold they have on it. The world continues, their situation often does not change, yet their desire and ability to live is restored. This does not happen because they were forced, coerced, gamed or shamed. They were merely listened to and allowed to explore their soul and their fear. As when we were young, we find the idea of the fear worse than the reality.
I grew up afraid of the dark, something that lasted into my late forties. I would leave the bedroom door ajar, the shade never fully pulled, a light on somewhere. It was my darling dog who helped me through this. We would walk early in the morning, as was his want and in winter we often ended up in woods. Pitch black and with my human eyes unable to see clearly, and my imagination running wild, until one morning I realised there was no bogeyman, no killer or monster awaiting me. There was just nature in its blackness, and I revelled in it as my dog did. The torch I had carried never turned on again, as I understood there is no blackness just shades of darkness, and I could walk slowly and use my senses to not trip or fall or walk into a tree. I had let the control go and now I revel in the dark.
I am bringing this release of control into other areas of my life. It is a work in progress as am I, yesterday talking to my dear friend I said “you should take that to your therapist” then immediately realised my attempt to control his process. I called myself out and apologised. What he took as good-natured advice I understood to be an unconscious attempt to affect his agenda, how insensitive I felt. As we talked it through, I forgave myself and was happy to have recognised it so soon. I hope next time to catch it before it is said thereby turning my unconscious to conscious.
I am about to cede control to a meditative process for a short while, I will see what this brings. Once I gave up thinking about the comforts I usually enjoy not being available, I gave up my sense of control, right now this feels liberating.
Let’s see.
Photo by Simon Wilkes on Unsplash