And in that moment, you realise, you never had control in the first place, and all the effort that went into trying and thinking you did … was wasted, and could have been far better spent in the “BEingness” of the experience.

Because who cares if it went the way you wanted it to or not? Whatever happens you need to live with it. You need to adapt. You need to find a way to make peace with it or to embrace it.

So why do we continue to try? Why is the control a weird compulsion we seem fixated on doing, even when we know it’s futile?

Maybe because it makes us feel like we’re taking responsibility, like we care.
Maybe if we do nothing, we think that implies we aren’t invested. Not interested. Couldn’t give a …. ….. And therefore, don’t deserve it anyway.

Maybe it isn’t about deserving at all. Maybe you just get whatever is a match for you.
Maybe if you worked on your shit, honoured yourself and your wounds, found stuff to be grateful for and appreciated it with reverence and joy every day…. Maybe the good stuff would just happen, without any effort on your part.

And of course, by “you”…. I mean me… Photo: afternoon thunderstorms in Sri Lanka

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