Inertia — Nº142

Locus of control

I’d love to believe that everyone and everything in my life will be around forever. The hope alone lately has made me try to be as cognizant as possible around loved ones, thinking, “If I could keep this moment with me. If I could freeze time and take more time to look around, I would”.

But time is a swift passage.

Love contains a deep and mysterious continuity. You can feel it reverberate through you. Often as a result of a diversity of triggers. Music can spark it. Or visiting a town, county, or city that withholds many of your memories. Sometimes we bury that feeling, but I don’t think you can ever lose it.

When we’re young, we struggle to notice the way time passes. Only later do we understand that we never get it back. That’s why some people find it difficult to believe the people they love and admire will age and change and morph over time. Perhaps they outright refuse to believe it. But we get older, and the frequency and time we spend with those loved ones naturally shrink as we pursue our own dreams. Some have it lighter than others. But it brings me to the same concept.

The locus of control: something I learned in school that stuck with me. It’s an interesting concept on the degree to which we believe outcomes in our lives are within our control versus attributable to external forces. Put another way: it’s a major driver of our motivation, effort, and wiring.

Those with more of an internal locus of control generally feel empowered in driving their life’s direction. Those skewing to external either see themselves as passive reactants or try seizing control forcefully when feeling helpless. Both extremes can lead to problems.

In a piece called The Paradox of Control, the author argues that the healthiest locus of control balances internal and external. Psychology notes that when you attempt to control the uncontrollable, you experience “misapplied control”. What makes us special is we’ve evolved to adapt and control our environment — while other animals resort to migrating or hibernating. Control is highly effective in many situations, but it is also sensitive to change. Still, we try to tame it in places where it doesn’t work. I’m sure you’ve seen how that can go.

You’ll experience a point where you realise you can’t control everything nor can you eliminate all risk. Instead, as I’ve gotten older and recognised what I’m doing, I’ve switched to focusing more on how precious each moment is. Whether you’re eating, talking to a friend, making the effort to catch up with people — as I’ve been trying lately — or simply being in silence.

Your locus is best placed not at either of the extremes of the spectrum but at the balanced centre. Free of excessive planning, worrying, or suppressing. The ultimate grace comes from recognizing that you have an important role to play in how your life unfolds while acknowledging that you are neither almighty nor completely impotent.

I know in my own life, I now prefer to pay more attention to what I have when I have it. I’ve vacillated from feeling I had no real control or impact to thinking if I just tried hard enough, I could perfect every area. The former led to resignation and stress, while the latter burned me out chasing unrealistic standards.

Relinquishing control is simple but not easy. I’m learning to find a centre. To breathe through serenity prayer — accepting what I cannot change while having the courage to change what I can. To not beat myself up over failure or place identity in always being right or perfect. To let go of fear about unpredictability and trust you have enough wisdom to respond skilfully when challenges arise.

The paradox of control is that we gain more power and ease when we stop trying to grip so tightly. Like Chinese finger traps — pulling away restricts us while leaning gently in frees us up. And remembering that truth loosens our grasp on ourselves and life beautifully.

No doubt we’ll keep exploring this dance. But reflecting on this will hopefully bring you some measure of peace and confidence. Even with our endless bills and professional, social, or personal obligations, we can show up with confidence in the face of everything that life may throw at us.

Look at everything again, slowly. Turn it over. Don’t endlessly search for ever more security. Hold space in your mind for gratitude. Understand the elegance of things. Let go. And let what’s in front of you be enough.