I set out to write what arises, to follow this flow of words from the heart, wherever they lead. Somedays I’ve thought to write something different, or to try to control what comes. “Maybe,” I think, “I can tell that funny story about that time when I lived in Australia and went to the beach to watch the kite surfers…” But then I catch myself planning and recall that I’ve vowed not to plan this. I’ve promised myself not to think out any of these entries, but rather to write what comes and be sure it is coming from love not fear, openness, not constriction.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for your comments and encouragement. Sharing this part of my life with someone beyond my journal is filling me with so much joy. And I will continue to write, audience or no. I’ll face down those fanged monsters in my mind and reveal them to be nothing more than dust when I turn to blow them away with an exhale.
“The trajectory of our spiritual lives–no matter what our path…the trajectory of our spiritual lives and all of spiritual awakening is towards surrender.” ~Adyashanti
This is my surrender. This writing is my surrender of being right, of writing perfectly. Through each of these entries I feel the chance to lay bare a quiet part of myself that is difficult to express in conversation. And here I am again, surprised, astonished, even at what’s been written as if I really had nothing to do with it at all.
Thank you for reading thank you for writing thank you for the opportunity to attempt expression.
Surrender does not mean white flag waving to steel cold guns pointing in the face of scared solider. Surrender is slipping quietly through the cracks of hard world, is wind swirling between branches and leaves, is sun reaching tiniest plants hidden in the depths of mountain valleys.
Surrender is stopping holding on or resisting, softening strong stubborn spine, is water seeping through porous rock. Surrender is lying down inside of self, While also being up right in the world.
Surrender is opening my heart to the whole of life, knowing it might hurt, and doing it anyway, over and over again.