The illusion of control

Another of my defects of character, and one which leads almost inevitably to anger is the illusion of control, the idea that I can find permanent safety if I simply organize things well enough. Of course, you must also be organized by me, because the humans in my life are the most unpredictable (and therefore dangerous) elements. Unfortunately, of all the parts of my life in need of ordering, you humans seem to be the most intransigent to my ideas of how I think you should be molded. Damned ungrateful of you, if you ask me.

Not surprisingly, the Big Book of AA has an appropriate quote regarding this tendency: "Is he not a victim of the delusion that he can wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world if he only manages well?" (pg. 61) [A little side note: it amuses me to observe in myself the fact that I want so badly to manage the grammar of the above quote, which I find awkward.]

This illusion of control is one aspect of what the Buddha meant by suffering. It is worthwhile to recall that, although there are thousands of teachings in the Buddhist canon, the Buddha himself said that he taught only two things: suffering and the end of suffering. The most succinct definition of suffering I have ever read is Sylvia Boorstein's: "Suffering is unappeasable need." We want to cling to that which gives us pleasure while keeping that which gives us pain always at a distance. These needs are unappeasable because they are impossible; pleasure leaves us and pain finds us, always. This is not a nihilistic philosophy, but a realistic one; the Buddha was not teaching a way of living so much as a way of looking at what is. One of the most common misconceptions in those who are unfamiliar with Buddhism is that the Buddha meant that one must suffer in order to be spiritually whole. What he truly taught is that we will suffer, whether we like it or not, and the key is how one relates to suffering.

But it is also important to remember the second half of what the Buddha taught, which is the end of suffering. How can one reach the end of suffering if suffering is inevitable? Isn't this antithetical? The answer is in the full and open acceptance of the reality of existence, an honest examination of what the nature of our suffering is, which leads in turn to the realization that our suffering and its sources are illusory, and the further realization that what we call "I" is also an illusion. If there is no "I", then there is no one who suffers, therefore there is no suffering. This is what the Buddha called nirvana.

I hasten to add that this non-self realization is one which comes at the very end of a long path, a path which most of us have just barely begun. I am nowhere near such a realization, but I have come to understand the possibility of it as something of an intellectual exercise, and as a goal to which I can aspire. For me, this is the Second Step's promise of restoration to sanity. (For a wonderful discussion of this idea of aspiration as a guiding force in leading a Buddhist life, see Sharon Salzberg's book Faith).

This idea of suffering and the end of suffering is, to me, identical to the concept of powerlessness in the First Step. I am powerless over alcohol and everything else in my life, and my life is most certainly unmanageable. This idea that I can "manage" my life is the illusion of control from which I suffer so much.

In the third edition of the Big Book, on page 449 (in the fourth edition on page 417) are some of the most oft-quoted words in AA: "Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today." This, and the words that follow are one of the most eloquent descriptions of how this urge to control causes me to suffer, leads me to create suffering in the lives of others, and puts me at risk of the misery which leads to relapse into active addiction.