The Struggle Between Letting Go and Still Wanting Control

by Josh Billings on April 10, 2010

This is Part 3 from ‘What Your Decision-Maker Needs to Hear from Your Action-Taker.’ A series of channeled writings from the part of me that is expected to carry out decisions, addressing the part of me that actually makes those decisions. Part 1 is available here. This post begins where Part 2—Fear of Imperfection—leaves off.

There is a bug on your wall, but you’ve grown past the fear of forcing me to kill. You know that it is a baby, and that it will grow, and that bigger = scarier, but you accept that reality and let it be. You ask me to ignore your fear rather than to help you transcend it. That is one way of working with me, but perhaps not the best.

You see, I am wiser than you think because I do not require thinking to expound the wisdom I have within. I am the embodiment of every thought that’s ever run through you, tweaked to perfection by the dominant thoughts of the day to act in accordance with the thinker you have become. I am the mind beyond your mind, an extension of where you direct your energy. And you lose sense of me when you try to slow me down to the speed of a singular strain of thought.

Stop trying to capture me perfectly. (I had a coat on at the time and instinctively threw it off to concentrate on the moment.) That’s right. Take your coat off, stay a while.

♫ If I’m rough around the edges it’s because my borders always grow. I’d rather burst out at the seams than lose my inner glow. ♫

Remember that? I wrote it. I am the music that’s housed within you.

You’re slowing down to capture me perfectly again. It’s not necessary. Trip over yourself, it’ll be good for you. Be flaw-ful and then learn to love yourself anyway. That’s more freeing than any form of physical liberation.

So keep on prodding me to be profound. Let me ask you something, would you prefer that I sound profound? Or that I move you with my profundity? Do you want me to shit out something that will sound clever and insightful and get you lots of compliments? Or do you want me to touch upon something that will truly move you?

There is a difference, you know. Between what sounds like something worth repeating and what you can barely utter because it moves you so much.

You wanted me to use a word more profound than moves, but moves is the most accurate word I could have used. Movement is a form of inspiration that enlivens every cell in your body. It’s not just a bolt of insight that lights up your mind and nervous system. It’s something that causes you to take flight after some wild idea and pursue it to its end; not just a rock that sends ripples through the pond, but then settles down at the bottom to join your collection of “things I’m proud of thinking of.”

A proud thinker is one who often rests on his laurels. A proud mover is one who loves what it is to fly, and flaps his wings, for the gust of wind that rushes past his body is enough to remind him why life on the ground will never be enough for he.

Did that sound nonsensical? It’s because you tried to stretch me into profound rather than let me rest at real; but real is what movement is all about. Profound is the wind that rushes past real; it may make you feel alive, but it cannot compare to the truth of who you are. So make peace with real. Set out to embrace it. It may not travel as fast as the wind but it stands the test of time. And it remains when all else seems to have been blown away by the very words you’re feeding me so that I may sound profound without ever offering something worth remembering.

Let go of your need to control me. Reality has a mind of its own and I speak its language better than you could ever hope to. So let me hold up my end of the continuum. You will never truly understand why reality is the way it is, you can only understand why you want reality to be the way you want it.

You are the creator of your desires, the holder of your preferences, the maestro of your imagination. I’m the body that keeps your head off the ground. That walks the lands that you peruse in search of ideas for how you might want to alter it. You are the architect, I am the one who tames the land.

Do not cross roles, or expect me to play the game your way. Let me be free to speak the language of the land and err the way I’ve come down here to err. After all, to err is divine. And I know I didn’t word that in a way that strikes you as profound, but I wanted you to see that phrase as I brought it back down to earth.

It’s just words knocked together, carried by the reverence of the times. But it will one day fade into obscurity and rest among the forgotten words of forgotten worlds. It all fades to dust. That’s the way it is. Because dust is insignificant. We need it to give significance to significance.

These words are insignificant. But they’re helping to set you up for what I’m about to say. And now that you’re hanging on my every word, I’ll tell you. The reality of it all is insignificant compared to the reality of your all. All the world outside of you means nothing compared to the fullness of who you are.

So stop trying to create great, start trying to create whole. Stop trying to be impressive, start trying to be engaging. Stop trying to interact for some set purpose, start becoming and stand for a purpose.

The world is more than a means to an end, it’s a reflection of your best friend; the you within you that always tries to sound more important than it is because it’s never fully appreciated for all that it can be.

Let go and just be. You can’t quantify the love you have for yourself, you can only allow it or pinch it off. And pinching is fine, but allowing feels much better.

So end it with that. End it with something deliberately unsatisfying that invites the reader of these words to get up from their seat, and go out into their world, and find for themselves a place worthy of their ass. And to go to that place and sit. For that is their throne.

The throne of humility is where you’re embarrassed to say you’ve sat. And we’ve all sat in troubled places. So I’ll just stop trying to be profound with you and just remind you to be real.

Be real because it’s realer than profound. Be real because it’s something more than nothing—and that’s all you have to do to gain a better sense of who you are. So be real. You’ll go far. Because you’ll travel past the dissatisfaction and rewrite the story that you put yourself to bed to; and thus awaken to find yourself a person different from the one you laid to rest.

Be sure to check out Part 4 of this series, Understanding Your Doer and Moving Past Getting Things Done.

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