Between Control and Chaos: Leading Through Uncertainty

“Trust is not a passive state of acceptance. It is a courageous act of opening.” ~ Tara Brach

One of my favourite things to explore in life is polarities.

I see them everywhere in life: two things that, on first glance, look like they're complete opposites but are, in fact, intimately connected. And when my perfectionist tendencies are front and centre, I tend to experience those polarities as rigid binaries. Either/or. One or the other. And of course, I often find myself stuck there, because neither of those extremes feels particularly good.

The polarity I want to discuss today is this: the binary between rigid control and total chaos.

When I’m stuck in perfectionism and my inner control freak is running the show, those often feel like my only options. Lock it all down, or fall apart completely. And let’s be honest, neither of those really works.

But something opens up when I can see control and chaos not as binaries, but as poles of a polarity, like two ends of a magnet and both offering something valuable. I get access to all the space in the middle.

Somewhere between those two poles of control and chaos is a state I’ve come to call responsive flow.

And finding that space, staying there, living there, requires me to cultivate two key things: agency in the face of chaos and trust in the face of uncertainty.

That’s the heart of the dance. Holding both. Agency and trust.

Agency means I don’t have to let chaos carry me wherever it wants to go. Even when things around me feel wild or out of control, I can still plot a course. I can move with intention. I can act with dignity. That’s what makes it agency: not hustle, not control, but the ability to respond.

At the same time, trust is essential. Because I don’t know what’s going to happen. And clinging rigidly to my plan isn’t going to get me through either. Trust means staying open. Trusting my capacity. Trusting that I’ll know what to do next when the time comes. Trusting life, the people around me, even if that’s harder. (That one’s still a stretch for me, to be honest.)

Sometimes, that trust is my agency. When there’s nothing to do, when there’s no clear next step, my action becomes internal: holding myself. I feel into the back of my body. I breathe. I let my back have my back.

These are embodied states. I can’t think my way there. I can’t read a book or plan my way into responsive flow. It lives in the body. It requires practice, a lot of it.

Because here’s the thing:

• Agency without trust becomes rigid control. I don’t trust anyone else to help me. I don’t even trust myself to handle things if they change. So I grip tighter.

• Trust without agency becomes passivity. I float along like a leaf on the breeze, hoping things will work out but not really able to shape anything.

Neither one is wrong. But they don’t work well in isolation. When they operate alone, they tend to distort. It's the interplay that brings wholeness.

The magic is in the dance.

Try this.

Breathe in up the back of your body. Feel the length in your spine. Feel the strength in the muscles of your back. Your back has your back.

Breathe out down the front of your body. Soften your brow, your jaw, your shoulders and your belly. Choose to open your heart.

Strong back, soft heart, as Brené Brown would say.

What's that like?

How are you holding these two in your life right now? Where do you find yourself on the spectrum between control and chaos? What might become possible if you opened up more space for responsive flow?

Not balance. Not a static midpoint. But a dynamic dance. A weaving of action and surrender, of intention and openness.