The Frustration of Trying to Control Change

Someone wrote me an insightful email. They said, "I haven't acquired anything new and don't want to. I have been examining the way I feel about some individual items that I thought I liked. I think sometimes having a same item around over the years gives me a sense of security and makes me think things can stay the same, which is not true of course."

It's amazing to me how much life changes every second, at the same time we crave and try to maintain stability. Essentially our ingredients are vibrating electrons which are in constant movement and changing all the time. It's an unstable existence. I think deep down there's a part of us that knows that life is constantly in movement and trying to maintain sameness is like attempting to build a balsa wood house on the surface of the ocean. But still we try. We look for ways that we can feel secure. I think it's the source of suffering. We experience this every time we say, "Why is this happening to me?"

I don't agree with the folks who say whatever is happening to you is your fault, that you manifested it. It fuels the blaming addiction. It serves to make people feel wrong when things don't work out like they wanted. Plus it's trying to claim ownership to the powerful universal force that animates everything. It's easier and kinder to be aware of change as it's happening and do what you need to do.

Also, I like to think the Universe knows what's best for me. There have been hundreds (more like thousands) of times where I was wrong about it. I remember a few years back wanting to see The Black Crowes at the outdoor Greek Theater in LA. I spent a lot of time trying to find deals on the internet. When I couldn't, I tried negotiating with ticket scalpers outside the theater that night. But they wouldn't budge. One guy actually tore up a ticket and threw it in the trash rather than haggle. It couldn't believe it was happening.

The concert started and I was sad. Then intuitively I looked over at a picnic table just outside the theater and my quiet inner voice goes, "What if you were to lay down there and listen to the show?" That voice is nectar to me, so I went. I laid down on the picnic table, closed my eyes and relaxed, and listened to the band sing, "Wiser Time."

"No time left now for shame,
Horizon behind me, no more pain,
Windswept stars blink and smile,
Another song, another mile."