Free will! It’s an expensive gift that burdens us from the moment we can hold our head up by ourselves. It’s the liberty that I enjoy while simultaneously preventing me from controlling others for my convenience. Like the slow driver who is often in front of me. I could force him off the road in my frustration, but I choose to avoid jail time. My free will comes at a cost.

Many things seem outside the control of my will like the cold weather and my bone structure. I could choose to wear long underwear when needed and reduce my sugar intake. (not likely) Even climate change seems outside my influence or am I choosing to let it grow wild through my in-actions? Do I put salt on my driveway to reduce the ice, or will it end up in my well? Free will has consequences. What is the boundary between free will and control? Maybe it’s a misconception.

Some experts suggest focusing on a small circle of control; an area where your free will has power to control. Will power. They say that your breathing and your thoughts fall under that influence. Though there are limits. I can only hold my breath for so long without brain damage. When planning actions, I can only think of so many consequences. Free will has limits!

On the other hand, I have free will to practice my breathing and to be physically active, both of which will improve my lung control. I have will power to decide on which ideas I concentrate and to see opportunities instead of obstacles, both of which can improve my outlook. Free will is time consuming!

So is it a misconception of control or just a very small circle of influence? I’m leaning towards the latter, but I still wish the slow driver would get out of my way. His free will is costing me!

(Mis)-Conceptual Control

I can't see the heat that smothers the cold.
I can take comfort under the blanket.
I'm blind to the spoken words that cut me down.
I can sense my blood chase after them.
I can't name the breath that inspires.
I can see charity in action.
I can't see the thoughts that kidnap my attention.
I can count the minutes of loss sleep.
I'm unable to touch the music that lightens my mood.
I can feel a smile spreading over my face.
I won't witness the birth of the raindrops.
I can drink from the well.
I can't focus on the seconds that grow my beard grey.
I can list the years dedicated to my career.
I'm incapable of measuring the risk of loving someone.
I can hold my child's hand each time he falls.
 

Brian Toner March 2020