Taking My Hands Off the Controls

“Sometimes you have to stop worrying, wondering and doubting. 

Have faith that things will work out, maybe not how you planned 

but just how its meant to be.” 

--Anonymous

Copyright © 2020

By Ralph F. Couey

My wife tells me I'm a worrier.  Guilty as charged.  It kinda runs in the family, as my Dad was always one to dwell on the welfare of his family, especially in his later years.  In a sense, Yoda would likely say the same thing about me that he said about Luke:  "All his life has he looked away…to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was; What he was doing.”  As I look back over the years, I can remember that the things that might happen got more of my attention then what was going on at any particular moment.  A big part of that was the sense that in whatever moment that was, I and my life, was in a hot mess. Naturally, it was more attractive to obsess about a future that had yet to be written.

That's been an albatross around my neck for as long as I can remember.  What I failed to understand then, and even recently, is how little control any of us have over the future.  

Most people when they think about the future, the focus is on matters of money, or things related to financial health like one's career.  Now, we can plan, we can read what all the experts think, do all the prudent things.  But as the last three months have shown, things happen, things that cannot be predicted, and certainly things completely beyond our ability to control or influence.  I once had a co-worker that, upon leaving Friday afternoon, said, "See you Monday, unless the big asteroid falls." Big rocks falling out of the sky tend to make a hash out of people's schedules.

Last week, I was out doing my walk.  I was on a new route, along Lagoon Drive out by Honolulu Airport.  While tooling along, my mind was, as usual, grinding away at my current set of worries.  For really the first time, our future is shrouded in a fog.  Cheryl is likely to be ending her contract in the next two months, which punches a big ol' hole in our finances.  Hawai'i is a massively expensive place to live, and while we have decided to go back to the mainland eventually, that eventuality is hanging on our heart-felt responsibilities to her aging mother.  Now, we have absolutely no control over the progress of her dementia, nor over the length of her life.  She's 93, but of stolid Okinawan stock, which means she could live to be 110.  We worry constantly about her, because we're afraid that one day, her deteriorating mind will push her to do something that might put her in danger.  And we simply can't be with her 24/7.  

Adding to that is the continuing soap opera that is our oldest daughter's life.  We hadn't heard from her for over a year until last week when she messaged the announcement that we now had grandchild #11, a girl named Harleen Renai, born at 3 pounds, 8 ounces.  Given the path of her life, this was the last thing she and her companion needed.  Now I had a new fear, one for the welfare of this tiny new life, thousands of miles and a wall of quarantine rules away from anything we could do to help.  

All this was on my mind, when I saw a older man (definition:  older than me) coming the other direction.  As we are all wont to do, I swung wide to maintain the required six-foot distance.  Neither of us were wearing masks, so I got the full effect of his big, warm smile. I pulled one of my earbuds out in time to hear him say, "My God!  What a beautiful day, yeah?"  I returned the sentiment and we went our separate ways.  But it occurred to me that it in fact was a beautiful day.  The sky was clear except for a few white puffy clouds.  The air was warm and tropically humid, but the cooling northeast trade winds were blowing, keeping things comfortable.  To my left, the magnificent deep blue of the Pacific stretched out to the horizon.  It was one of those "smack-the-forehead" moments.  Here I was in one of the most beautiful places in the world.  I had food, shelter, and a steady job, a rare thing in the middle of a pandemic.  I stopped thinking about the future, and just lived in that moment.

It was a liberating experience.  The more I thought about it, the clearer things became.  I had absolutely no control over anything that could, or might -- or might not -- happen. I realized that the future will play out as it should.  My worrying will not change that in the slightest.  

On the day I retired from FBI, I told my co-workers how important it was to not let the "gotta be theres" and "have to dos" keep us from reveling in the power and beauty of a particular moment.  The joyful sound of a child's laughter.  A moment of true friendship.  A smile from the love of our life, not just any smile, but that special one they save only for us.  These are transient moments, but are the threads that weave the grand tapestry of our lives.  When they happen, don't ignore them, don't blow them off, don't let them be forgotten.  Treasure them. Embrace them. And then place them ever so carefully in that magnificent hope chest that is the human heart.

I had forgotten my own advice, but thankfully, a moment helped me to remember.

Now, there are things I do need to pay attention to, things that are within my control or influence.  But I'm going to try very hard to restrict my ruminations to those things I can affect and control.  The rest of it?  It'll happen as it's supposed to happen.  And when life sends me a big wave, I'll start surfing. I may wipe out.  But at least I'll enjoy the ride.  Even with my hands off the wheel.

I crossed a wall, one that kept me from seeing life as it should be regarded.  And you know what?  

The view from the other side ain't half bad.