Am I protecting or controlling?

Too much safety is a prison,
Too little safety is an ocean.

I have recently become fascinated with the relationship between protection and control.

I have experienced times in my life where I have suffocated and stifled things because I have been overly controlling. And this impulse was rooted in wanting to protect, but corrupted by the fear I wouldn’t be able to.

One area that this has clearly happened to me in my life is with my own heart. For me, it’s a sensitive organ. It feels deeply and fully, and therefore sometimes painfully. So I learned to protect it, to keep it safe, and by doing so, I closed it off, first from the world, then from myself.

Once cut off from my heart, I was cut off from much of my body, my inner senses, my embodied love, and much of what was actually present in my reality. Leaving me to experience the world more conceptually.

First experiencing the pain and depth of loss and grief, then the wonder and stretching of having children, broke down many of the structures of control that had my heart boxed in.

What has become an interesting reflection is seeing how the relationship I have with my heart is reflected in the relationship I have with my children.

How attentive am I?
How much am I restricting them, controlling them out of fear?
How well am I protecting them?
How present am I with what they are feeling?

Sometimes the line between control and protection is thin. 

And that’s where boundaries come in. 

The ocean is boundless, the prison is immoveable.

Our skin and our cells offer us a wonderful reflection of protective boundaries.
They are porous, yet discerning.
They are flexible, yet reliable.
They are participatory and responsive to their environment.

If I have a rose, its beauty is precious to me,
so I place it in a jar. It wilts and dies.

If I have a rose, and I plant it in a field and I am negligent of it,
it could easily be trampled and destroyed.

If I plant it in a garden and attend to it as it requires,
it will have the best chance of flourishing.

We may wish to say, I love you so much, Rose, I will place you somewhere nothing can harm you, and put it in the jar.

We may wish to say, I love you so much, Rose, I will never take away your freedom,
and place it in the field.

But neither extreme supports the rose.

The garden is fenced, it is boundaried, but it is alive. It is permeated by unpredictable sun, wind, rain, and insects.

I am learning that to be a healthy steward, a protector of what is precious: my family, my heart, my community, my gifts, my values. I can’t control them through rigid rules and hiding them from life.
I cannot grip them.

I must allow them to be exposed to the world,
while I remain present, responsive and attentive enough for them to be well held.
Until my holding is no longer needed. 

Too much safety is a prison,
Too little safety is an ocean,
Just enough safety is a garden.

Until the next time,

Peace and love,

Alex