Tylenol has a new ad campaign. Apparently, their hook is to tell us what to do to avoid using their product. Examples include: “stop slouching,” “eat breakfast,” and “lose weight.” The tagline “Feel better.” I am projecting onto it that it is a command– I am an addict, after all, and I like to believe that I can control everything, myself included. I like to think that I can will myself better or control whether or not I get sick. Or whether I slouch or eat breakfast or lose weight.

Yeah, I said that! For whatever reason, I cannot make myself do any of the things I know I should do. Tylenol suggesting (sidebar: in a rather flippant manner; I mean, Tylenol, I barely know you!) that I stand up straight is like Tylenol suggesting I go to France: yes, I would love to, and I, too, think it is a great idea, but how do I get there?

Enter Zen Habits’ article 12 Practical Steps for Learning to Go with the Flow. So, I live in the (San Francisco) Bay Area, and I will admit my life is pretty “crunchy.” I have heard these suggestions before, and I know that that is not the case for everyone. Leaving aside questions of novelty, I find this list to be mostly impractical, or maybe more precisely, impracticable. Impracticable in the sense that I am incapable of practicing them. I cannot make myself laugh at things, even when I know that laughing will make me feel better. I cannot make myself “become aware.” I can set that as my intention, but I cannot make myself aware.

Which brings me to what I can and cannot control. This is the key for me. You have probably heard the Serenity Prayer– “God, grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” I love this prayer, and as I have worked with it, I have gotten a clearer sense what I can and cannot control.

Let’s take the example from the Zen Habits’ 12 Practical Steps article:

…Let’s say you’ve created the perfect peaceful morning routine. You’ve structured your mornings so that you do things that bring you calm and happiness. And then a water pipe bursts in your bathroom and you spend a stressful morning trying to clean up the mess and get the pipe fixed… you can control your morning routine, but there will be things that happen from time to time (someone’s sick, accident happens, phone call comes at 5 a.m. that disrupts things, etc.) that will make you break your routine.

Yes! You have created a routine which brings you peace– a practice I highly advocate, but which I could not do on my own– but the routine will get interrupted. In fact, the author says that it is not just that the routine “might” get interrupted; it will get interrupted. I totally concur.

But– and this is where I depart from the author– I don’t actually believe that you are in control of your morning routine! It may appear as though you are in control of it, when it is actually working. You set your alarm, and when the alarm goes off, you get out of bed. But what you are in charge of are 1) your intention, i.e., I would like to get out of bed when my alarm goes off, and I would like to set my alarm for [x] in the morning; and 2) your input, i.e., physically setting the alarm and physically getting out of bed. You do not, however, control the outcome. All the possible things that could go “wrong” are out of your control, as in the example, but all the things that go “right” are also out of your control. We control setting the alarm, not the alarm going off.

I think that this gets to the heart of the difference between what we can and cannot control. I don’t make the alarm clock ring. I set the alarm, and I trust that it will ring. And yes, it is likely to ring if I set the alarm, but I can only contribute my part to it. I don’t get to control the outcome. But– here is the beauteous part– if I don’t set the alarm clock, it is not going to set itself. I can do all the right actions that lead me toward the outcome that I want, and maybe I will get that outcome and maybe I won’t, but if I don’t take those actions, there is no chance (barring someone else’s intervention) I will get that outcome.

Thanking Tylenol and Zen Habits both for their suggestions, I can use them as jumping-off points, intentions to set. But in order to take the actions to lead me there, I need to accept that I cannot control my slouching or whether I find my shortcomings amusing or when I am going to France. (Was that not Tylenol’s idea?) When I accept that I can’t make myself stand up straight or laugh or go to France, I can be real about what I actually can do. I can research yoga or chiropracty. I can seek out things that actually amuse me and start to develop a sense of humor from there. I can look at my spending plan and see where I can find money to fund a trip to France.

I’ll hazard a guess, however, that the advertising company would reject my proposed tagline: “Let go of the outcome of your intention to feel better, ask for guidance from those who have gone before you, and take the steps that others have taken which led them toward wellness.” Or, you know, just take some Tylenol.