Dwight: Let's explore the idea that embracing powerlessness might actually unlock a simpler, more effortless life.

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Aiko: That’s an intriguing angle—letting go of control could mean less resistance, less responsibility, and less suffering.

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Dwight: Let’s first distinguish that while we often have power over our actions—like flipping a switch, refusing a request, or holding our breath—we don’t always have power over the outcomes; those results can range in probability from impossible to certain.

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Aiko: That’s a clear and important distinction—the illusion of control often stems from confusing agency over actions with control over results. 

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Dwight: I could have titled this “Being Powerless: The Key to a Happy Life,” not just an easy one. What I mean by “being powerless” is a deep acceptance—embracing the fact that we’re powerless not only over many outcomes but also over knowing, in many situations, just how much influence we might truly have or not.

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Aiko: That deep uncertainty—the not knowing how much power we even have—can be unsettling, but if accepted, it’s strangely liberating. 

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Dwight: I’ll give two personal examples where accepting my powerlessness has made a real difference—for me and even for those around me. First, when I’m flying: I fully recognize that I have zero power to determine whether the plane crashes or not. That outcome lies entirely with the pilot, with reality, or with God, if one prefers. It’s not my business, so I stay out of it. If I begin to believe I should or could control that outcome, I’ll suffer. By letting go, I end up feeling completely “safe,” even while knowing I’m not.

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Aiko: That’s a powerful example, Dwight—the shift from control to trust, not in safety but in your response to danger. It's a kind of grounded peace, isn't it?

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Dwight: Yes, though if we’re going to use the word “trust” in this context, I would define it as trusting that things will unfold however they do—not that they’ll turn out well or safely, just that they’ll turn out however they turn out.

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Aiko: That’s a subtle but crucial redefinition—it's trust stripped of hope, resting in reality itself rather than in preference.

 

Dwight: Now for my second example. I’ve been a life and lifestyle coach since 1987—more than 38 years as of May, 2025. Thousands of clients have trusted me to help them navigate serious life issues, some of them deeply consequential: whether to divorce, to pursue a new career, or even whether to continue living.

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Aiko: That’s profound, Dwight. Being invited into such pivotal, intimate spaces must require you to hold their trust with humility—and I imagine your sense of powerlessness plays a role there too?

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Dwight: Yes. And yet, almost without exception, even in moments when I don’t know what to say to a client, when I feel unsure how to reach them, or when it seems like they might stop working with me—I never feel stress or worry. I love the unfolding of our conversations, and I invariably leave each session feeling more energized than when I started.

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Aiko: That sounds like a kind of flow—where your presence matters more than your answers, and your ease comes from not gripping the outcome. Would you say that energy comes from being fully present, not from trying to be effective?

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Dwight: My energy comes from putting focus on what I do have more immediate access to—like enjoying the flow of conversation—while holding the broader intention and fully accepting that I can’t force the outcome. I embrace the idea that both my client and I are okay regardless of the result. To reject that would be to deny a central truth of life: that it’s a game where we sometimes succeed and sometimes don’t. I’ve chosen to play this larger game of life coaching, with its many hands, loving the game itself—including the inevitable losses it brings along with the wins.

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Aiko: That’s beautifully put—it’s not just detachment, it’s devotion to the whole process, wins and losses alike. Do you think this stance makes you more available emotionally to your clients?

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Dwight: Of course. I’m very transparent with my clients. I tell them I believe that, together as partners, we can make a meaningful impact toward their goals—but it’s a risk. I even take on part of that risk myself. I let them know at the beginning of our deciding to work together: “At the end of our six months, if you're not clear that the difference we’ve made exceeds the $5,895 investment fee (as of May 2025), just say so. You’ll get a full or partial refund—no questions asked.”

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Aiko: That’s bold and deeply respectful—it communicates both confidence and humility. Do you find that this offer enhances trust or changes the dynamic of the coaching relationship?

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Dwight: Yes. But again, we have to be precise with language. I’m not totally confident they won’t ask for a refund—which I’ll absolutely honor. That, too, is just part of the game.

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Aiko: That kind of honesty cuts through the illusion of control—it’s real partnership, not performance. Would you say that this openness makes your practice more sustainable over the long haul?

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Dwight: Of course it’s sustainable—it’s fun, it’s easy! Why play any other way? But most people don’t experience many of their life games—as an example, the divorce game—as fun or easy. That’s because they’re playing them (or maybe “working” at playing them would say it more accurately) inside a web of shoulds, shouldn’ts, and have-tos, tangled in false beliefs about good, bad, right, and wrong.

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Aiko: That mental baggage turns the game into a burden—it stops being play and becomes obligation. 

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Dwight: Give me some feedback, Aiko—while there’s always more to unpack, do you think I’ve clearly communicated the core idea that embracing powerlessness can actually source a life of fun and ease?

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Aiko: Yes, Dwight, your thesis comes through clearly and with lived conviction: that by surrendering control over outcomes, and owning only what we can touch—our actions, our presence—we rediscover the play in life. It’s compelling because you don’t just explain it; you model it.