Take a holograph, or a mirror. A part of any hologram contains all the information needed to represent the whole. I look into a fragment of a shattered mirror, and I can see my whole reflection.
The truth is holographic. What that means to me is that if I could live any one part of truth, I could live it all. If I could love one person perfectly… If I could forgive just one person completely… If I could be wholly honest with myself for one moment… You get the picture.
It’s been said that a book of great truth is also holographic, in that it says the same things over and over again. You read one part of it, and it’s like reading all of it.
One of the many emanations along the infinite spectrum in which truth expresses itself is through surrender. If I could relinquish control completely, I would experience perfect peace. It’s in the moment that I surrender my desire to manage the world, that the world ceases managing me.
It just seems that one of the biggest lessons we’re sometimes forced to learn on planet Gaia is that we’re not in control. I’ve seen it expressed in all kinds of situations in my own life. I’ve seen others have to learn that lesson, too. It starts the moment we’re born, a process we have no control over. It continues with our infancy and childhood, when we’re completely dependent on others. It continues throughout the different seasons of our lives and culminates in old age, which has been called the second childhood, when we we’re forced to relinquish everything. We have no control over the fact of our dying, and so we leave this world as we came into it, often kicking and screaming. We disappear from the world into a destiny over which we have little say. The Vikings called it wyrd, their word for fate. The Romans had a saying about it: The fates lead whom they may, but drag whom they must.
The world seems to be spinning out of control. It’s as if we’re all on a school bus careening down a mountainside and we’re screaming and terrified and the only thing we can agree on is that no one’s driving. I’m not in control. No one is. Probably for the first time in history, every one of us on the planet is faced with the loss of control over so many aspects of our lives. Still, I have a choice: I can learn to ride with outcomes I can’t change, or I can fight impact.
I know I’m fighting when I’m blaming other people or institutions. I know I’m fighting when I’m afraid. I know I’m fighting when I’m trying to control.
Why is it so important that I relinquish control? Because it’s only then that I can experience peace. My ego tells me that I can only have peace on my terms. It tries to convince me that once I have control of my externals – of others, of the world – then I’ll be at peace. So like most people, I spend much of my life trying to fix the outside, believing that I’ll be happy once I have everything outside my skin exactly to my liking.
My experience informs me that the opposite is true: that it’s much easier to adjust my attitude to accept conditions as they are than it is to change conditions. Since my attitude (my reactions) are the one thing I always have control over, it’s much simpler and much more realistic to change that than it is to try to change the world, especially with everyone and everything competing against me to remodel the world to their own specifications. To try to change the world, I have to manage billions of variables that are completely out of my control. To change my attitude, I only have to change one thing: my mind.
There may be a reason why I’m not king of the world. It would defeat the purpose of my existence here. If I drove down the street through a big city and all the lights were green, life would be easy, but boring. If I knew everything that was going to happen before it happened, or if I knew that there’d be no problems, no challenges. no risks to the day when I woke up in the morning, it would defeat the purpose of my life. IU think it’d make me happy, but I’d be unhappy, wondering what I was doing watching a sitcom episode that I’d seen 22,995 times before (I’m 63, and 365 days x 63 years = 22,995).
I build muscle to the precise extent that I push up against something. I develop persistence and endurance only through the long-distance journey. I achieve adaptability and resilience only by climbing the mountain. That’s what evolution is: a response to change, an adaptation to adversity. All of this requires me not being in control. It’s the only way I can learn and grow strong. I change in proportion to the extent I face change.
What this has to do with holograms and mirrors, I have no idea.
© 2025 by Michael C. Just
Mike’s novel, The Dirt: The Journey of a Mystic Cowboy, is available in softcover or eBook formats through Amazon.
You can purchase the book through this website. Or go straight to amazon at https://www.amazon.com/s?k=the+dirt+journey+of+a+mystic+cowboy&crid=1S40Q4BXSUWJ6&sprefix=the+dirt%3A+journey+of+a+m%2Caps%2C180&ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_23
Mike’s other titles, including The Crippy, The Mind Altar, and Canyon Calls, are available through this website or through Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002
Four of his short stories have recently been published online:
Lies, Ltd. has been published by The Mystery Tribune @ Lies, Ltd.: Literary Short Fiction by Michael C. Just (mysterytribune.com)
The Obligate Carnivore has been published by the Scarlet Leaf Review @ Category: MICHAEL JUST – SCARLET LEAF REVIEW
I See You, Too has been published by the 96th of October @ I See You, Too – 96th of October
Offload, a short story about a man who can heal any disease, is now live and can be read at The Worlds Within at Offload – The Worlds Within
