Once we accept our limits, we go beyond them.
– Albert Einstien
Just short of two months ago, I was having breakfast with a good friend. At one point in the conversation, we began talking about control — feeling out of control, trying to maintain control, wanting to control our own behavior in various and sundry ways, and of course wanting to control others …
I recall sharing my emerging perspective with my friend; in particular sharing the notion that control is a myth. We, in reality, control far, far less than we think we do. And, furthermore, our attempts to gain a measure of control over our lives — to be in control — are largely folly.
That’s what I was telling my friend on that Sunday morning over breakfast.
A couple of hours after we said goodbye I learned that sometime earlier that morning, possibly even while I was having breakfast with my friend, my mom died.
* * * * *
My friend and I had breakfast again this morning. We each have had a pretty eventful 7 weeks, and there was catching up to do …
In the midst of our catching up, I noted the significance of our last breakfast; of course he remembered; he even reminded me of something I had mentioned in an email to him soon after learning of my mom’s death.
In that email I let my good friends know of my mom’s passing, and I alluded to the possibility that I thought mom had decided that it was time to go. This notion came to me as I was taking in the scene: she was lying on her back, stretched out on the bathroom floor, inert; lifeless, yet peaceful; no signs of a fall; she even appeared to have maneuvered a small plastic garbage bin under her head, a pillow of sorts …
My theory is that her blood pressure dropped; she sensed it in time to lay down right where she was (she had had blood pressure drops before, with a dizzyness that she told me she really didn’t like) and when the feeling didn’t subside, she … just… went… with… it…
Now there’s really of course no way of knowing if this scenario is in any way the reality of her death. It very well could simply be me conjuring up a scenario to comfort me in my grief.
But, surely, it’s plausible; no?
Is it possible to take control of the one thing we just have no control over? Is it possible to decide to die?
When the topic of control again came up this morning (it is a running theme for us!) my friend posed a great question: How do I square my thinking about my mom deciding to die with my “control is essentially a myth” theory? Isn’t that inconsistent? Doesn’t it seem that in the very last act of her life, my mom exercised a measure of control over her dire circumstances?
Hmmmm.
I immediately began pondering; his query very definitely was worthy of some mental processing …
Not sure I’m done thinking about this, but here’s where I am now with it. I don’t think my scenario is inconsistent. I don’t think my mom was exercising a measure of control over her dying.
I think she was exercising the ultimate act of acceptance.
And it occurs to me that there is a great paradox involved here. It occurs to me that maybe acceptance is the only way we can really maneuver ourselves into a position of being in control.
Paradoxically, we are in control only when we understand that we, really, are not in control …
Which would mean that acceptance is the ultimate answer to being out of control.
It’s the ticket to beyond.
johnponders 
So sorry for your loss.
You raise an interesting point, and I agree with it. Control is giving ourselves over to…whatever it is. We don’t control the circumstances, necessarily. Only our reactions.
Thank you Ashley.
And even our reactions test the idea of control … subject to moods, health, biochemistry …
Another great ponder. I agree with your thoughts. However, Mom would often say she was ready to go. She was getting weary of all the things that were required of her in order to go on. She was tired too. She always said she had a good life (in spite of what we all know what she went through). If she did (sensibly as always) decide to lay down after a dizzy spell, then to me she did have a bit of control up to end. She went the way she wanted to go, quickly. After my initial reaction of seeing her there (gut wrenching), I too thought she looked peaceful. She was a strong woman up to the end. Surprisingly, she is giving me strength through my grief. I loved her beyond words and miss her so much.
Just like words are at times inadequate to describe our experiences, the rational mind is inadequate to fully capture the human experience we call life. We feel we loose control when the world does not fit into our expectations of the way thing should be. We are however much more than our thoughts. Sometimes the ability to really understand or control does not come from the rational mind, but from the heart! It is here where we accept our limits and become much more! It is here where your mother will always be with you!
Christine, yes, mom expressed her tiredness and readiness to me as well … and I am not surprised to learn that you feel she is giving you strength … you say she was a strong woman, and she certainly was … and so are you!
Mike, oh my gosh you continue to shock and awe with your perspective. And comfort! Thank you …
John,
Reading this on the heels of Stephen Colbert’s reflections of his own mother’s passing (http://on.cc.com/121H31w), as well as reading my brother’s personal response to Colbert’s memorial (http://bit.ly/18aP9ct) is making me Ponder, John.
Control? Word. A gauzy subject, indeed.
Control over life’s events? Not bloody likely. Control over one’s reactions to those events? Yes, sir. That’s a life-long learning experience in which I eagerly participate.
Well, “eagerly”… pfffft. Sometimes, yes. Sometime, hells-no. But, learning to act with volition in response to Life’s freakish sense of humor has become something of a hobby for me. Or a compulsion. Whatevs.
Control over the acceptance of one’s death (when/if the opportunity presents itself)?? It is entirely possible. I’ve witnessed such acceptance
My own mom knew, at age 86, that she could not beat MDS (myelodysplastic syndrome) – even with available treatment. So, she decided to forego all intervention save some palliative care. Instead, she chose hospice at home. Surrounded by family and friends (and sometimes “with her Irish up” about all the fuss), she spent her final months patiently preparing for her death. She gave advice on life and love and good books. She laughed and cried and quietly reflected, and she enjoyed every cup of coffee. She asked us to throw one more family party – so she could attend her own Irish wake. And, she reassured us all over and over again that she was ready… “Going with the flow” was how she put it.
Going with the flow. Word-and-a-half.
Control. Like s*#t, it happens. Sometimes when we least expect it from ourselves or others. It’s good to think about on a Monday morning over coffee.
I wish you and your family (yo, Jamie!) peace and comfort with your mom’s passing. And through you, her living and passing affords us the opportunity to Ponder. Thank you for sharing!
Joanie
Ummmm … wow. Now that’s an evocative commentary!
That paragraph above describing your mom’s experience is simply beautiful. And powerful. Inspiring. What a role model in a time of inevitability and sadness! I imagine that was quite the emotional roller coaster for you and family …
Thank you for sharing your pondering!
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