Our anxiety does not come from thinking about the future, but from wanting to control it. — Kahlil Gibran
—What lingers after this line?
One-minute reflection
What does this quote ask you to notice today?
A Subtle Redefinition of Anxiety
Kahlil Gibran reframes anxiety as something more specific than mere anticipation. The future itself—uncertain, unfolding, and not yet real—doesn’t automatically distress us; rather, distress appears when we demand certainty from what cannot offer it. In that sense, anxiety becomes less about tomorrow and more about our relationship to uncertainty. This distinction matters because it shifts the problem from “the world is scary” to “I’m trying to make the world obey my plans.” Once control becomes the goal, every unknown turns into a threat, and even ordinary decisions start to feel like high-stakes gambles.
Why Control Feels Like Safety
Wanting control is understandable: it promises relief. If we could lock in outcomes—health, success, others’ approval—we imagine we could finally relax. Yet, as the Stoic Epictetus argues in the Enchiridion (c. 125 AD), peace depends on distinguishing what is up to us from what is not; when we chase what isn’t ours to command, we inherit frustration. From this angle, anxiety is the emotional “interest” we pay on an impossible loan. The more we stake our safety on controlling external events, the more vigilant we become, and vigilance easily turns into chronic worry.
Planning Versus Trying to Predict Everything
Gibran isn’t condemning foresight or responsibility. Planning can be wise, even calming, because it focuses on actions within reach—saving money, preparing for an exam, having a hard conversation. The trouble begins when planning shifts into a demand for guarantees, as if preparation should eliminate uncertainty rather than help us meet it. Consider how someone might check the weather before a trip; that’s practical. But refreshing forecasts every hour to ensure nothing changes is different—it’s an attempt to bend reality into compliance. The line between planning and control is often the line between steadiness and spiraling.
How the Mind Fuels the Need for Certainty
Modern psychology often describes anxiety as driven by “intolerance of uncertainty,” where ambiguous outcomes feel unbearable. In cognitive-behavioral terms, the mind jumps from “I don’t know” to “something bad is coming,” and then tries to neutralize that fear through checking, reassurance-seeking, or overthinking. Ironically, these strategies can reinforce the belief that uncertainty is dangerous. Thus, the desire to control becomes self-perpetuating: a brief feeling of relief teaches the brain that control-seeking “works,” even while it expands the list of things that must be controlled next time.
Letting Go Without Becoming Passive
If anxiety grows from control, relief comes from a different posture: commitment to influence rather than mastery. The Serenity Prayer (popularized in the 20th century) captures a similar idea—accept what cannot be changed, change what can, and cultivate the wisdom to know the difference. Acceptance here is not resignation; it is clarity about where effort is fruitful. In practice, this can mean acting decisively on what you can do today—send the email, practice the skill, rest your body—while allowing the outcome to remain partially unknown. Paradoxically, surrendering the illusion of control often produces the very steadiness we sought in the first place.
Living Forward With Humility and Courage
Ultimately, Gibran’s line invites a more humane way to live with time. The future will always exceed our predictions, so the task is not to dominate it but to meet it—prepared, flexible, and willing to adapt. When we stop treating uncertainty as an enemy, it becomes a condition of being alive rather than a personal failure. From there, courage looks less like perfect confidence and more like continued movement amid imperfect knowledge. We think about tomorrow, yes, but we release the demand that tomorrow prove we were in control.