Break Away

By letting go of control, you allow yourself to enter new realms of freedom.

By Sally Kempton

On the second day of a workshop I'm teaching, called The Art of Letting Go, I've planned a discussion of the yogic practice of releasing our tendency to overcontrol situations. My intention is that people will recognize how much pain they create when they try to control every little thing in their lives.

I write two phrases on the whiteboard—In control and Out of control—and ask the participants to hold both phrases in mind, one after the other. I ask them to notice the feeling state that arises around each one.

It's no surprise when two-thirds of the people in the room report that they prefer feeling in control rather than out of control. But then, a woman stands up and describes an evening when her husband answered the phone, talked for a few minutes, then hung up and said to her, "That was D. He says the two of you are having an affair."

"Of course, it was exactly what I'd been trying to avoid," she said. "But instead of being upset, I realized it was a total relief that I didn't have to try and control things anymore."

I have a moment of doubt—are we opening a Pandora's box here? Should I point out that the yoga texts do not really support extramarital affairs? Before I have time to respond, five or six hands shoot up. It seems the confession has opened a door into a new level of mutual intimacy, and they all want to talk about their positive experiences of having life go out of control.

A man speaks about being out in a sailboat during a storm, when the sails came loose from their tack, and the boat was driven by the gale-force wind. Another guy talks about losing a big chunk of change on the stock market and how, after the initial shock wore off, his first thought was "I'm free!"

By now, I've stopped trying to guide the conversation, having entered the zone familiar to workshop leaders whose plan has been superseded by the spirit moving through a group. It feels as though a volcanic recognition—something Dionysian and ecstatic—is pushing its way into the room. Finally, someone says, "So, it's scary to feel out of control, but scary as it is, it's going to happen. So sometimes, can't it be a way we break through into a deeper level of experience?" And everyone, in unison, nods.

Afterward, when a friend who is attending the workshop whispers in my ear, "I'd still rather be in control," it occurs to me that we have tapped into one of the central dichotomies of human life. Put simply, it looks like this: You do your best to control reality, to make your life function smoothly and efficiently. You also strive to keep your mind and emotions under control. At the same time, part of you longs for flow. Somewhere deep down, you know that a crisis or a meltdown can serve to push you past the psychic barriers you erect against the unpredictable and lead you back to the roller-coaster-like sense of freedom that can arise when your plans are suddenly overturned. You've probably also felt how resisting life's flow nearly always seems to create suffering.

Meet Your Control Freak

Whether consciously or unconsciously, we all are engaged in a pas de deux between our desire to keep things under control and our longing to ride with the unpredictable. On one hand, control is essential. Without it, we would never mature, never accomplish our goals, and never transform bad habits. Our safety and productivity—indeed, the social contract itself—depends on our collective ability to control our impulses, check our tempers, make plans, and keep our commitments. When we say that someone is out of control (unless we're talking about a rock star going into fourth gear onstage), we usually mean that the person is dangerous to herself and others.

At the heart of any control issue is the desire for personal power. Essentially, we measure our empowerment by how well we control our inner and outer environment. Externally, we express our power by how well we're able to control and manage our time, work, reputation, finances, and—admit it!—the other people in our lives. Internally, we take power by controlling our bodies—think of how good it feels when you hold a Headstand a minute longer than usual or resist eating the extra cookie—as well as our thoughts and emotions. We try to think positively or take deep breaths, instead of lashing out at a family member. We get down to work when we secretly feel like watching a movie. In so many ways, control is good, necessary, and admirable.

But then there's the other side of the story. That useful, necessary control mechanism has a tendency to turn tyrannical. Too much control deadens the life force in you. And the line between too much and too little can be hairline fine.

The shadow side of the mature and sensible inner controller is the control freak—the one who frets endlessly about her to-do list, cuts off any relationship that threatens to turn unpredictable, and tightens up when the inner music gets wild. The control-freak part of you is convinced that she holds the reins to your sanity, and she is sure that, without her constant intervention, you'd be living in chaos, eating junk food, neglecting asana practice, and possibly risking death. (After all, at her primal core, the inner controller equates control with survival.)

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