Control

This is such an ambiguous concept, but then I guess any abstract noun presents difficulties. I mean, I say something (like control) and who knows what it rattles in your brain; it moves through the conduit of your previous experience and forms a terminally subjective meaning that is far removed from what I am talking about. Hence, virtually all of post- modern philosophy ends up tearing up the classical philosophers because the words they used really have no meaning, words are dead. Can we connect? I do not really know.

Anyway! I am supposed to be writing on control.

The word would mean that we have some mastery of our environment, a feeling (real or imagined) of authority. The greatest degree of this control could lean toward power but the least degree of control would fall into the jaws of helplessness. We are told that control is a good thing, that control is directly linked with purpose, that if we purposefully strive ahead and control, take-a-hold-of our situations that will turn out the way we want them. For the most part, this is true and not a bad thing; illusion, however, is.

Control is necessary but even more important is looking like we are in control, because if we can't be in control then why not at least seem like it? Right? I realise that all these issues (that I blog about) stem from a core problem but I will not address this problem just yet. I grip the illusion of control like grim death, as if you imagining I had control would count to real control. The short story is my life has moved beyond my control and become a monster of it's own. I used to think that this was a fantastic thing but it has moved into areas to which I never wanted, let me illustrate.

A hydra is a mythical beast, when you cut off one of it's heads it simply grows two more to replace it, making it virtually unbeatable, Hercules did apparently but God only knows how. My life is much like a hydra, I had a single head or purpose; then it got cut off. To compensate I grew two heads, diversifying my purpose and not limiting my options, sounds like sensible business to me. By 21 I have had my head cut off so many times that I have about 57 heads and I do not even know which one I really am, this angry monster now just rampages following whichever head is out front. I have a complete lack of control despite every head being a part of my body that just feels the weight of the world crushing it.

I am the hydra, and you are next.