“[The author of Proverbs] then goes on to tell why this interior work is better when he says that it is the first and most pure of a man’s fruits. And little wonder, when you realize that the high spiritual wisdom gained in this work freely and spontaneously bursts up from the deepest inner ground of his spirit. It is a wisdom, dark and formless, but far removed from all the fantasies of reason or imagination.”—Privy Counsel Ch. 6
I have personally been struggling mightily with my work lately. I work at a school for “at-risk” kids whose exterior lives are, for the most part, a shambles, and as a result their interior lives are pretty much a wreck too. Amid all that wreckage, I’m supposed to offer them a quality education. My frustrations have run high in recent weeks as I’ve collided again and again with the impossibility of fixing all the things that are broken in their world.
Yesterday I went for a run, kind of a crazy dash through the neighborhood, ostensibly for my health, but really just taking my anger out on the pavement. I was simply mad at the way things are. And then, abruptly, I just stopped there in the street.
What dawned on me, bursting up, as the author of Privy Counsel says, from the deepest inner ground of my spirit, were the words “circle of control.” This phrase has become a mantra I’ve used with my students lately, trying to help them see that they have little control over other people or the external circumstances of their lives. Their actual circle of control is very small, governing really only their response to the present moment, but in that circle there is great freedom and great power. And as has always been the case, I discovered that what I was teaching my students was really what I needed to learn myself.
I have no control over others, especially these kids that I work with. I cannot control the politics of my country, the rules of my workplace, or the weather. I cannot change my parents or their parents or anyone else whose lives and actions have left a mark on the reality the rest of us share. To be angry about that is to assume that I should have a wider circle of control than others. The brokenness of my students is really just my brokenness viewed from a different angle. We are mirrors for one another. There is just one of us, and one brokenness.
I resumed my run through the neighborhood, but now running the way I did as a child: not for my health or to relax but for the pure joy of running. My consciousness settled back into my real circle of control, and I felt the first real peace and freedom in days. From this ground of centeredness, we can actually have great influence, over politics, over our workplace, and especially over the inner condition of our minds and hearts. We find that by letting go of controlling others, we actually have much greater power and presence than ever before.
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