A few years ago, I was part of a migration project that lasted for months. We were going to migrate an old system to a new one. We spent months writing tests, carefully considering every possible scenario, and anticipating dozens of “what if” possibilities in advance. When the night of the migration arrived, we had a comprehensive plan in hand; we knew exactly what to do, step by step, minute by minute.
We kicked off the migration at midnight. The first few steps went off without a hitch. Then something we hadn’t anticipated at all happened: a third-party service behaved in a way we’d never seen while we were testing. The plan we’d spent months preparing was set aside around 4 a.m. that night, and we started making split-second decisions. The issue was eventually resolved, but it was quite a struggle for us.
Then I started thinking to myself… Were all those months of preparation for nothing? No, they weren’t. But I also realized that no matter how much we prepare, there’s always a chance that something beyond our control will happen. Preparation empowers us, but that power isn’t always a guarantee of success.
It’s not that simple to accept this as normal. Because we spend a large part of our lives trying to manage things that are beyond our control as if they were within our control. We don’t even realize it.
Psychologist Ellen Langer conducted an interesting experiment in 1975. She distributed lottery tickets to people, giving some the chance to choose their own tickets, while others were assigned tickets at random. When she later offered to buy the tickets back, those who had chosen their own tickets demanded a much higher price. (1*) But the chances of winning were exactly the same for both groups. Simply having the ability to make a choice gave people the feeling that they could control the outcome, which led them to demand a higher price. Yet there was no reason for those tickets to be more expensive than the others. This is called the illusion of control. And it’s much more prevalent in our lives than we realize.
Let’s say we’re at the airport. The flight is delayed by two hours; an announcement has been made; there’s nothing more we can do. But we still go to the ticket counter to ask, “Is there another flight?” We keep checking the departure board and refreshing the flight-tracking app on our phones. Doing all of this doesn’t actually make any plane land even a minute early. But the act of “doing” something gives us the feeling that we’re in control of the situation, even just a little bit.
This is exactly what the illusion of control is all about: trying to make something that’s out of our hands feel like it’s within our control by doing something.
So why do we need this illusion so much?
I think the answer is simple: the feeling of control gives us a sense of security. Uncertainty is unsettling—sometimes even unbearable. To reduce this discomfort, our minds construct a narrative that makes us feel as though we can “manage” even the things we can’t actually control.
Psychologist Julian Rotter introduced the concept of “locus of control.” (2*) Some people attribute the outcomes in their lives to their own actions; this is called an internal locus of control. Others attribute them to chance or external forces; this is called an external locus of control. An internal locus of control is generally a healthier source of motivation. But taken to extremes, it becomes a trap: we start taking responsibility for things we can’t control and unnecessarily blame ourselves when things go wrong.
So there are two sides to this coin.
We also need to address the difference between control and planning, because the two are often confused.
Planning is mapping out a logical path based on the information we have. I have a meeting tomorrow, so I’ll prepare my notes. That’s healthy.
An obsession with control, however, is something different. It’s mentally rehearsing how that meeting will go, what the other person will think, and exactly what the outcome will be—trying to resolve every possible scenario in advance. This isn’t planning anymore; it’s trying to make it look like I’m managing my anxiety.
Here’s the difference, in my opinion: planning is about what’s within my control, while an obsession with control is about what’s beyond my control.
Ellen Langer conducted another experiment, this time in collaboration with psychologist Judith Rodin. In 1976, at a nursing home, they gave some of the residents the opportunity to make small choices. For example, they could decide for themselves how to arrange their rooms, and if given a potted plant, they were responsible for watering it. For the other group, however, everything was handled by the staff; they had no right to make even small choices. (3*)
The result was surprising: the group that was able to make small choices was found to be both happier and healthier; in fact, eighteen months later, this group’s mortality rate was significantly lower than that of the other group.
Something as small as watering a plant. But the feeling of “having something in my hands” can truly save lives.
So the point isn’t to give up control entirely. The point is to see what we can actually control and focus our energy there.
There’s a prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr, known as the “Serenity Prayer”: “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” (4*) When I first heard this phrase, it seemed very simple, but then I realized that the hardest part of life is actually that part about “distinguishing between the two.”
Letting go of what’s within our control is irresponsible. Being unable to let go of what’s beyond our control, however, leads to endless exhaustion. Neither takes us anywhere.
I think this works the same way in relationships, too. Take a child, for example. No matter how good a parent we are, we can’t control who they’ll become, what they’ll love, or what decisions they’ll make. What we can control is the environment and love we provide them. When we fall into the trap of control, we’re actually trying to manage our own anxiety, not theirs. This is exhausting for both us and the child.
The same applies to relationships with partners, friends, and even coworkers. We can’t control what others think or how they’ll react. The only thing we can control is our own attitude and intentions.
But there’s another side to this. We’re not just trying to control the future; we also struggle to accept our present situation. We constantly try to “fix” in our minds what’s beyond our control, what’s missing, or what “should be but isn’t.” This, too, is a form of control—it’s just directed in a different direction, toward the past or what’s missing.
This is exactly where two concepts come into play: gratitude and praise.
Gratitude is feeling thankful for something good that has happened to us—a success, good news about our health, or something beautiful. It’s relatively easy to be grateful for these things because what we wanted has already come to pass.
Praise goes to a deeper place. It’s about being able to remain grateful even when something bad happens to us—by recognizing that there might still be a lesson, a beauty, or a meaning to be found within that experience. We couldn’t control the outcome. But we can still choose what we take away from it.
I’m reminded of the movie *Life Is Beautiful* here. In a concentration camp, a father—with almost nothing left under his control—turns everything into a game to protect his son. Of course, he can’t change what he can’t control. But he can choose the meaning he conveys to his son. I think that is exactly what gratitude is.
Drawing on his experience in concentration camps, Viktor Frankl wrote almost the same thing: we cannot control our external circumstances, but we can always choose what meaning to ascribe to them. (5*)
There’s a section on joy and sorrow in Khalil Gibran’s book *The Prophet*. He says: “The deepest joy sits with your sorrow on your bed.” (6*) In other words, they aren’t separate things—they’re two sides of the same experience. Perhaps “hamd” (praise) is precisely what blurs this distinction—allowing us to draw something from both without drawing a sharp line between good and evil.
There is a concept mentioned by the Taoist Zhuangzi—wu wei—that points to a similar idea: moving without forcing, without resisting the flow. (7*) But let’s not mistake this for passivity; it is actually a conscious acceptance.
Fortunately, there is also scientific support for this. Psychologist Robert Emmons has conducted research on gratitude, showing that people who practice gratitude regularly experience positive effects on their subjective well-being, sleep quality, and even their immune system. (8*) But some of his studies specifically reveal this: in people going through difficult times, gratitude—which is actually very close to “hamd”—significantly strengthens resilience.
So “hamd” isn’t just a spiritual concept. It turns out it has a measurable effect—who would have thought?
As I was writing this, I realized something: the true test of letting go of control comes not when things are going well, but when they’re going badly. It’s easy to be grateful during good times. The real challenge lies in still being able to find something to be grateful for during difficult times.
I also realized something else: that example of the flower at the nursing home has never left my mind. It turns out that even when letting go of the big picture, holding on to a small thing can keep us going. Maybe the point isn’t always about figuring out the big picture, but about holding on to the small thing we have.
I’d like to share these practices I’ve developed for myself with you:
Take something you’re worried about today and divide it into two: “Is this within my control, or not?”
Notice how much energy you’re wasting on something that’s not in your control—just notice it; don’t try to change it right away.
Find your own little “flower.” Choose something small but entirely within your control, and hold on to it.
At the end of the day, count the three things you had control over that day. It doesn’t matter if they’re big or small. This is gratitude.
Think of a bad experience you had in the past, and figure out what you learned from it. This is also a reason to give thanks.
When you’re going through a difficult situation right now, ask yourself, “What could be in this?”
Take something you’d say “should have been” and rephrase it as “it is this way right now.”
I’d like to ask you: Think about the most difficult period in your life. Is there something that emerged from that time for which you’re grateful now?
See you in the next post. Until then, stay well.
(1*) Ellen Langer, “The Illusion of Control” (1975)
(2*) Julian B. Rotter, “Generalized Expectancies for Internal Versus External Control of Reinforcement” (1966)
(3*) Ellen Langer & Judith Rodin, \"The Effects of Choice and Enhanced Personal Responsibility for the Aged\" (1976)
(4*) Reinhold Niebuhr, The Serenity Prayer (1930s)
(5*) Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning (1946)
(6*) Khalil Gibran, The Prophet (1923)
(7*) Zhuangzi, Zhuangzi (4th century BCE)
(8*) Robert A. Emmons, Thanks!: How the New Science of Gratitude Can Make You Happier (2007)
