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Dit is een quote die me op het lijf is geschreven. Ik vind mijn actiegerichtheid zo normaal dat ik dat talent niet meer opmerk. Ik heb anderen nodig om me erop te wijzen dat dit echt typisch voor mij is. Ik vind het heerlijk wanneer ik ergens kan invliegen en kan zien hoe het dan vooruit gaat, vorm krijgt en afgewerkt wordt.

Langdradige losse eindjes zijn niet aan mij besteed. Ik word er rusteloos en moedeloos van wanneer iets te lang onafgewerkt blijft. Of wanneer een toestand van deconstructie te lang aansleept. Ik schreef er in april over in Lost in deconstruction.

Ondertussen is de toestand van de tuin het levende resultaat van mijn actiegerichtheid – ik kan gerust zeggen ‘onze’ actiegerichtheid want mijn man lijdt aan ditzelfde kenmerk. We vliegen er graag samen in!

Ik merk ook altijd dat het wordingsproces zelf meer informatie geeft over hoe verder te gaan met iets. Het is dus vaak kwestie van de eerste stap te zetten wanneer je ergens naar verlangt. Eenmaal die gezet is, volgt de rest als vanzelf, bijna moeiteloos. Of zoals Goethe schreef “Als je iets wil realiseren of droomt te kunnen doen, begin eraan. Durf bezit genialiteit, kracht en magie. Ik kan die gevleugelde woorden alleen maar bevestigen.

Tot volgende keer!

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When your teenage son or daughter is brought home in a police van, this is not usually an occasion to celebrate and you fervently hope none of the neighbours noticed. When the same happens to your adolescent dog, you find it amusing -to say the least- and you enjoy telling the story in full detail.

So we found it quite hilarious when a police officer led Django to our front door, meek as a lamb. Mister Django had only recently discovered and ‘sampled’ the females of his kind – to his great appreciation -, and he had been out looking for more. He had found the weak spot in our garden fence and gone off exploring.

When seen from his perspective, you cannot really blame him. Even I sympathise that as a living creature he wants to move freely just like us humans. He had already escaped a few times that week, but had always come back of his own accord. But that day he hadn’t, and my search in the neighbourhood turned up nothing.

Finally it appeared that he had been ‘paying a visit’ to people in the next street, who also have a dog. They didn’t know him, so had called the police who could trace him back to us through his chip implant. We got away with a warning and have promptly mended the gap in our garden fence.

The incident reminds me of how organised and controlled we adult humans really are, and how we desperately try to contain everything within certain limits. This is not how we come into the world however. Until the age of four, children are convinced of their own strength and heroism (I know this for a fact, with a grandson of that age who is wonderfully inspiring) and often childhood is a time of a careless freedom and endless possibilities. It is not really surprising that as adolescents we start a final rebellion as if we are perfectly aware of what awaits us in adult life.

When we reach the age of adulthood we seem to have internalised all those responsibilities, expectations and limitations – in what is called adult and responsible behaviour. As if the free creatures that we once were are forgotten. When we do not find a balance in this, the price to pay can be high.

In my coaching practice I meet quite a few people who struggle with this. This translates into feelings of not being ‘enough’, of being scared and feeling locked up, in often unwittingly wanting to comply to certain standards and expectations.

As coach I can help you to find back the light and strong person within yourself and to create a beautiful balance between the lightness of your inner child and the maturity of your grown-up self.

It is up to you to take the first step and all the following ones. I realise that this takes a lot of courage and investment in yourself. But the result is priceless. Read the testimonials of a few clients on my website to feel what a coaching journey can do for you. A sample session is free, with the additional bonus of a warm welcome by Django at the front door.

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Auteursrecht: svetazi / 123RF Stockfoto

The day I write this Inspiration – Sunday 20 November – is a stormy autumn day. I’m driving to Ghent in the early morning, the radio is on and I listen to several messages about the fire department and civil protection services working to clear fallen trees, broken branches, collapsed scaffolding and cranes.

My car is pushed from left to right by strong gusts of wind and at a given point I start feeling scared. I suddenly realise that at any moment something terrible may happen over which I do not and can not have any control whatsoever (maybe I should have stayed safely in bed?). The elements of nature make me feel vulnerable and unsafe – distinctly unpleasant emotions.

We want to have control so badly because it makes us feel safe and secure – or so we think. When we try to control something or someone, we think nothing can happen that we do not like or want. We also want to know what will happen, we want to control the future and make sure we have covered everything – so we do not have to worry about anything. We even go so far as devising a plan B for when things would not go as planned. Or we stop doing anything, stop taking any decisions or making any choices, for fear it might be the wrong ones. Then at least we are sure nothing can go wrong.

But do we ever really have control over our lives, over others or a situation? I believe it is an illusion that makes us unfree and unhappy. Does that mean you cannot think about the future or have to live very zen-like in the moment and not make any plans? That’s where the misconception lies: there is nothing wrong with thinking about the future, it only becomes problematic when you try to control it. It is all about taking action with an open mind – taking action to make things happen or initiate processes and then keep an open mind for the results.

When we count on control to make ourselves feel good and happy, we will definitely fail. The only thing a relentless urge for control guarantees is a life full of frustration and disappointment.

So how do you stop wanting to control everything?

  1. Reflect on your convictions about control. Why is it that important to you?
  2. Ask yourself the question: what do I get out of it?
  3. Answer honestly whether control truly gives you what you think it does.
  4. Is it possible for you to accept that actual control probably does not exist?
  5. The next time you feel the urge to control something or someone, try to let go and see what happens – or doesn’t.
  6. Go a step further and look for opportunities when unforseeable things just pop-up. How can you see them as something positive that you can use?

If you have any questions or thoughts about this, let me know. Or do you realise that a desire for control is invading your life, making you unhappy and you want to take action? Contact me for a free sample session.