The first Noble Truth the Buddha taught was, "Life is suffering." M. Scott Peck, in his 1978 personal development classic "The Road Less Traveled," expresses it as "Life is difficult," and that once we truly get it -- understanding it to be true and accepting it to be true -- we can transcend it. (Or begin to.)
Life is difficult; or, as he says elsewhere, "a series of problems." Yeah, I've noticed. Big and small, there's plenty for all.
Just yesterday --the day I set aside to to finish writing this piece -- I spent several hours counselling my two youngest children on separate issues that came up for them. When that was finished, I was emotionally and mentally exhausted. "I'll attend to more menial tasks," I told myself, working on the deck railing we are replacing (in between weeklong spells of rain), then ending the day trying to unplug the basement bathroom toilet. In the latter process, I inadvertently left a dripping tap -- which pooled on the counter overnight, spilling onto the floor in the laundry room and ... sigh ... the life of the parent, householder, human being....
You know the drill. We go along clinging to our "best-laid plans" and little things happen that thwart them.
Sometimes, it's bigger things -- a financial meltdown leads to a recession and perhaps loss of work or decrease in income; a routine checkup leads to the news that we or someone we think we can't live without has a serious illness; a corporation causes an "accident" and tons of crude oil wipe out our coastline, taking our livelihood with it. A gigantic earthquake, flood or fire changes life as we know it.
I began this blog 25 issues ago with the virtue of Acceptance, noting John Lennon's apt reminder that often, "Life is what happens when we are busy making other plans."
I've had a lot of experience with acceptance. When I was a child, my parents divorced. As a result I was ill-equipped to choose a healthy relationship, and consequently, I divorced. Twice. The stress of trying to make the impossible (single motherhood) work cost me my health, and I developed fibromyalgia. You may be able to relate. Things you didn't want to happen, happened. Things you desperately wanted to happen, didn't. You learn to accept what comes.
Surrender is related to acceptance. I think it may take acceptance a little bit further, add a slightly different slant to it.
If we wed acceptance to understanding (and throw in some trust), we may come closer to surrender.
I'm not talking about waving a white flag on the end of a stick -- not exactly at least, though when I think about it, it is kind of a funny metaphor if we look at life as threatening in some unnatural way. What I'm talking about is the internal quality of surrender. What exactly is surrender in spiritual terms?
My dear friend Kara Hunnicutt shares:
"Surrender has a faint image of laying down my arms (as in weapons) -- an acknowledgement of my inner warrior whose courage has taken her just so far, but now must admit a larger truth. It speaks to me of release -- perhaps releasing my old stories of 'how things are', or releasing my need to be combative and drawn up into tight defensiveness. Surrender is a physical melting, a flower bud that opens, muscles that release. Surrender is a winding, gentle path from the head down to the soft animal of our body. The words sweet and surrender go together. Acceptance and trust lead to the physical sensation of surrender."
The metaphysician Doreen Virtue says of surrender, "It means to let go of agendas and judgments about what life 'should' look like or be like, and to instead accept life on life's terms." Doreen also points out that "Surrendering makes us relax, and thus allows us to better hear our intuition. We find that we can get honest with ourselves about what we really believe and want, and then follow this inner wisdom. A relaxed state also allows creative solutions to bubble up from the subconscious, and into conscious awareness.
Surrendering triggers an ideal emotional state for creating cooperative relationships."
Sounds good to me. Living with two teenagers, if anything creates the state required for cooperative relationships, sign me up!
Seriously, I wrote a few months ago about my son graduating from high school and moving into the world, finding his way. As I watch him move in one direction and then another, I sometimes find myself biting my tongue. I want to give him advice and guidance (unasked for of course) -- and it's almost always in a direction that is not at all his inclination. When I resist giving him the advice, I worry. How will he make a living as an artist? Where will he live? How will he ever afford a home of his own?
When I give in to my fears and lay my wisdom on him (unasked for) it almost inevitably causes distance and disunity. My retreat group calls this, "Help strikes again!"
Come to think of it, this happens with all the relationships I have, when I think I know better what a person needs than they do themselves and take it to the next level by gifting them with my opinion.
Often in life, with my children especially, it really seems like I am right and I do know what it is they need. Not because I'm smarter in any way (I know I'm not). More like I've lived into some wisdom, based on my experience, often experience that caused me some kind of hardship or pain. In other words, out of my "mis"-takes.
When I surrender and let them be, I feel the recognition that Kahil Gibran so eloquently penned about my children not being my children, but rather the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through me but not from me and even though they are with me, they do not belong to me. When I look at my children that way, I can get curious and ask, "Who are these people that came through me? What are the gifts they bring to me? To the world?" And, most important, "How can I help them discover those gifts.?"
I'm reminded of what I've learned in the two decades I've been applying the strategies of the Virtues Project to my life. If we do for someone something they can and should do for themselves -- we disable them. And so I must surrender my children, the passion and fruit of my life for the past 33 years, surrender them to Life, trusting that they will find their way. It might be messy sometimes, and assuredly painful at others, yet I must hold them able. A wise elder once said that "Life is for learning our lessons."
Also, I recognize, though I have a lot of influence on my children, they really are their own people with their own ideas and longings. They are meant to be specific people -- not little Kates -- but unique individuals in their own right.
And what about life outside my four walls?
The situation in the world seems to me to be (and has always been) out of my control. If I were Queen of the World, everyone would have shelter and food, clean water, useful work, peaceful homes and countries. Healthcare. Education. Love. This isn't something I take lightly. It seems to be one of the visions I bring.
Perhaps it's because I came of age during the Vietnam war, the first war to receive live television coverage. I remember the images on the six o'clock news -- an endless river of body bags emptied from C-130s. I was grieved yet powerless. I used to pray on my grandmother's laundry porch on the first star: "Star light, star bright the first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight. I wish for world peace and happiness."
Concurrently, the civil rights movement was in full swing; there were protests in the streets for equality, for nuclear disarmament, for bringing back our troops. Mainstream youth from the US were driven into the counter-culture by the draft. Any moment, their number could be up and they could be sent to the jungles of Asia to defend the free world.
And here we are, 50 years later. How is the "free world'? There is war in Iraq, in Afghanistan, the Sudan; Somalia is a collapsed country run by pirates. We no longer see the reality of this on the nightly news, however, as the Pentagon declared war zones off limits to journalists under President Reagan, so the only coverage we now see is what they allow.
I could go on and on but you get the drift. Basically what I need to do is surrender to what is while doing what I can to make it different.
Sylvia Boorstein said, "I've discovered there are only two modes of the heart. We can struggle or we can surrender. Surrender is a frightening word for some people, because it might be interpreted as passivity, or timidity. Surrender means wisely accommodating ourselves to what is beyond our control. Getting old, getting sick, dying, losing what is dear to us ... is beyond our control. I can either be frightened of life and mad at life or not."
When I think of the state of the world right now -- the inequities, the hunger, the climate change, the injustice to humans and the natural world that is perpetrated each and every day -- I do feel mad. And helpless. I also feel despair and yes, I am sometimes frightened. When will we humans collectively learn our lessons?
How can I hold all the polarities having this human experience on this planet bring me and enjoy this one life I have been given? How can I surrender to what is and still work for what could be?
How can I make a difference? How can I surrender to what is, and work for what I want to see?
The serenity prayer comes to mind. You know how it goes:
"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." --Reinhold Niebuhr
Did you know there was an extended version?
It goes like this:
God, grant us the....
Serenity to accept things we cannot change,
Courage to change the things we can, and the
Wisdom to know the difference
Patience for the things that take time
Appreciation for all that we have, and
Tolerance for those with different struggles
Freedom to live beyond the limitations of our past ways, the
Ability to feel your love for us and our love for each other and the
Strength to get up and try again even when we feel it is hopeless.
Sounds like a manifesto for living -- and an apt description of surrender.
Think I'll mediate on that for a bit. I'd love to hear your thoughts on surrender.
Namaste
~ Kate
The Practice of Surrender
I use wisdom and understanding to discern the things I cannot change.
I accept those things I cannot change.
I have patience for the things that take time to change.
I'm tolerant of those whose differences challenge me. (as they may never change)
I accept life on life's terms.
I'm grateful for the ability to surrender to what is. It gives me peace and opens me to new possibilities.
Reflection Questions
What or whom do I need to surrender?
What new possibilities might surrender open up to me?
What would help me accept life on life's terms?
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