Surrender

letmemendheart
Let Me Mend Your Broken Heart

I was not planning on writing my blog post today. I feel tired and uninspired. I had a stomach flu two and a half weeks ago, and some of it is still hanging on. Too much of it hanging on today. So the plan is lay on the couch and sleep.

Then I remember Natalie Goldberg saying, start where you are.

Start where I am. I struggle with being sick. I fight it. I force my body to be okay, even if it isn’t. Do things even if I don’t feel like it. Be strong, I think, get things done, whatever ‘things’ happen to be.

Not this time.

This time, when I got sick two and a half weeks ago, I surrendered to how I felt. I listened to my body and what it needed. Sleep mostly. Naps and kindness and going slow. Letting myself drift.

Surrender has never been in my vocabulary. Surrender, to me, meant giving up. Note the past tense there. My understanding of surrender is changing.

Surrender now feels like a kind of trust, of being here right now and listening, sensing what is happening. Paying attention, and then moving with the flow rather than against it. There is relief in this, and ease. Letting go of what I think should be happening and what I think I should be doing.

Letting go. Letting go is not something I have been good at either. Life, for me, has been mostly about control. Being safe. No unwanted surprises. I can feel, even as I write about surrendering to my body and what it needs, a part of me really wants control. Pushing, shoving, struggling, making something happen. Making ‘not sick’ happen.

No. Not doing that today.

Today, it is Let Go. Be exactly where I am in this moment. Feel exactly what I feel. Trust and surrender myself to Source, God, the One Energy, the Universe. Let things be as they are. Let myself be cared for, loved, partnered by this moment.

Let the words come through me and be written slowly on the page, on the laptop. And done.

And now, let myself rest, sleep, let go, trust, surrender.

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In this post:

Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones, Shambhala, 2nd Edition, 2005. Try out pages 110 and 111 ‘Write Anyplace’.  http://nataliegoldberg.com/

This is not a test

 rainbow.alexiscreek

Start here. This is not a test.

I discovered a few days ago that I live my life as if it’s a test I have to pass. Something in me decided this, a long time ago.

The test never ends. I never know if I have aced it or failed it. I don’t know who the tester is, or if there are more than one. I don’t know what the questions are and whether I’ve been asked one, and if I answered correctly or not.

Wow.

This explains a lot. Why I am keyed up and have to consciously work at relaxing my body and mind. Why I sometimes look at others and feel I can’t stand equal with them. Why I always feel I am being judged. Why I don’t play enough and feel vaguely guilty when I do. Why everything I do has to have a purpose. Why I am frequently not satisfied. Why I pass by my successes, barely giving them and me any acknowledgment. Why I do things, love what I’ve created, then it’s bang—onto the next thing right away because I have no time to waste.

How sad.

I can say, and mean it and know it, that I am happy most of the time in my life. This is true. My heart is open and present and connected and creating. Loving. Joyful. True. I can feel it. Most of the time.

Yet there is this low-level background tension running the other stuff that I listed three paragraphs back. Stuff I have been ignoring, that creeps in between the love and joy and happiness.

Time to let this go.

I choose. There is no test. No Test. None. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

There is just my life and what I want to create in it. And no test.

I am letting this sink in. This feels GOOD.

My shoulders just dropped two inches. I can breathe. I can enjoy what I am doing. I can play.

Tigger and Totoro--Go Play!
Tigger and Totoro–Go Play!

Yes. I can play. I can wander out of that stuffy Life Classroom I caged myself in, give the door a slam on the way out, and watch the whole place collapse in a heap. Better yet, invite Wile E. Coyote to blow it sky high with one of his Acme missiles. Right on target. Ka-boom! Wile E. takes a bow. The Road Runner and I applaud. Then we all go play. Dibs on the slide!

Yes. Life is not a test. Go play.