Surrender

Surrender.

Oh god, surrender.

Surrender the control,

Or at least the perceived control — 

The systems, the processes, the learned habits, the walls I have build up around me to trick myself into believing that I have some semblance of control.

Control over timing, over events, over my safety, over the people in my life, or the ones I want in my life.

I have been in a circling pattern of repetitive chances to learn the lesson of surrender. The Universe imploring me to take notice and to truly surrender.

Not the surrender that I tell myself I am doing in savasana as I proceed to take copious mental notes of shit to take care of when I wake. 

Not the surrender that I tell myself I am doing when I release the outcome to the universe then rush in a frenzy of pushing and grasping as I make sure it actually does happen. 

Not the surrender that I tell myself I am doing as I trust in divine timing and then do all in my power to force the hand of time to deliver when I want it.

As I look back, I see these swirling cycles of teachings. 

The Universe trying to get through. 

“You are not alone. You are not alone. You are NOT. ALONE.”

What I got from that message is that I am supported in all I do. That the universe is conspiring to make my dreams come true. 

What I did not get was the reminder that I am not alone in the decision making. 

I am a co-creator of my life. Not the sole creator. 

I can make plans, yes. 

I can take action, yes. 

I can go after what I want, yes.

But I do not get to say when and what exactly I get in response to my hopes and all my efforts.

I wanted a child. God, how I wanted a child. I got my first child so easily. I chalked it up to me making our hope and love materialize in the physical world. So why didn’t it happen that way the second time? Why was I robbed of a life so quickly and harshly? Like the universe was toying with me.

Taunting me. 

What I didn’t stop to internalize was the co-creation that took place with my son. 

The hope and love from us, the choice from our child to join us, and the universe responding, agreeing. 

The miraculous agreement of life to fulfill itself. 

I am one part of the equation. I cannot force life where it doesn’t want or cannot be. I cannot force love or hope in a heart where there is none. I do not get to decide who lives and who does not. I don’t get to decide when I die. I cannot force something to happen when it is not the time for it. 

I cannot force something that was never meant to be.

Nor can I stop the course of nature. Life seeking to be fulfilled. Not even concrete can stop life from growing through it. Life will find the cracks, the opportunity to let the light to shine in, an opening for expansion. 

Love can make miracles happen, but only the miracles that are meant to be.

Surrender, surrender, surrender… to life, to love, to nature.

Surrender to what is. Not what I hoped for, not what I worked so hard to get, not what I lost. But what I have right here. 

Surrender as an act of devotional presence to life as it is, an act of worship to the present moment. 

I am listening, I am working to take the lesson to heart. To not only know the truth but to feel it in my bones, to live by that truth, to let it move me. To trust it.

I am surrendering. 

Even if it feels like part of me is trying to still an impatient child. To implore her to understand its importance. 

Even though I will fail at times, may the truth prevail in the end. 

Here is the secret that has been lying in wait.

The secret that has been holding out hope that I will one day claim its ancient wisdom as my birth rite,

that I will one day raise it up in recognition and cradle it in my heart.

That I may live and die in acknowledgment of its lesson:

Let hope burn fiercely and lovingly let go.