Right now I need to surrender. Stop. Surrender to that which I cannot control. Breathe in all that is around me. Be at peace with the things that are difficult- see them as marbles in my hand. I can roll them, throw them, and look at them… I have many choices. Right now I have to sit with them in my hand and do nothing.
Surrender to the moment.
Oh my god, do I sound like I’m full of shit or what? Seriously, I think this is my challenge right now. Not to make any choices, not to make any decisions but to simply sit. Don’t do anything. No chaos.
But I love chaos. I want to move, to change, to rebuild, and to rethink. Save stray animals and have more babies. Anything but sit still.
But the word keeps coming back to me. Over and over. Surrender. You really have no power. You cannot control the universe. All I’m doing is scrambling.
I had a dream last night I was running in deep, soft sand. My knees ached, I could make no progress and I was so tired. I gasped for breath. Everyone I cared about danced, laughed and ate atop a hill of this sand, unreachable. I could not drive my legs hard enough to get there. I was hungry. Exhausted. I wanted to be still. I wanted to be held.
I can run miles everyday. I can changes houses every five minutes. I will not make my life better. It is wonderfully distracting. Always the hope of something new over the horizon. If I have this, it will all work out. Oh wait, no it’s this thing, object, house, state, job, place- I’m starting to see the pattern. It never works out. I need to be at peace with myself.
I won’t give up. I have fought so hard in my life to be heard, seen and understood. The thought of giving up is foreign. Painful. Surrender? It is to be at peace with the struggle against my father’s hands. To stop fighting against the weight shoving my face into the carpet. Never.
When I think of surrender in terms of being at peace with all that is around me, the serenity prayer from AA comes to mind- change the things I can, leave the things I can’t, and most importantly, the wisdom to know the difference.
I don’t think I know the difference. I don’t think I’ve ever known the difference. I give up when I shouldn’t. I try when it’s ridiculous. I look for love where it is impossible. I forget how much I have right in front of me.
How do I get the wisdom? I can’t make it happen. I need to sit with it all. Hold all the marbles. And do nothing. Simply surrender. I have all this in my hands. At times, I can juggle it all, with ease, in the air. I can shift them back and forth, palm to palm. In the end, I am holding the same marbles. My arms ache. The marbles, however, are still there.
Every fiber of my being wants to make busy, to move, to change and shift… I need to give it up. Let go.
I cannot move forward until I stop trying so hard to make it okay. In my dream, the soft sand kept my friends away. I woke up crying in frustration. If I had only realized I could sit and call out for help.
Or better, sit and watch the ocean that created the deep sand. Breathe. No panic. No desperation. My friends will still love me even if I am not in motion, even if I fail to climb a mountain to be with them.
I will never give up.
I only hope to make peace.