On Surrender

Lately I’ve been reflecting on the concept of surrender. You know, that feeling of believing that the universe has got your back. That everything will work out how it’s meant to. Perhaps not for a ‘reason’ per say, or that it’s ‘written’, but as a part of the greater unfolding of the mystery of life — of our own individual lives, and of the larger collective. In other words, trust.

I am reminded of Michael A. Singer’s book, The Surrender Experiment: My Journey into Life’s Perfection, a biography of his philosophy and approach towards life: a commitment to daily meditation and an investigation into what can happen when you let life live through you — a complete surrender to whatever comes his way. He gets a PhD, grows an established meditation community, meets gurus, starts companies, creates a family, and ends up being CEO of a Fortune 500 company without intending to. He gets wrongfully indicted by the FBI and comes out years later with a wiser perspective and without charges. And he writes a #1 New York Times bestselling book, The Untethered Soul (I recommend reading this book after The Surrender Experiment, it will make a lot more sense, believe me).

I find Michael’s account fascinating, a first-hand account of what happen when you devote yourself to seeing what life brings forth to you, and continuing to say “Yes” with an open heart. And I am continually caught on the word “life’s perfection” he includes in the title — a reminder that ‘perfection’ is subjective. The ‘truth’s’ of our lives — including the ‘perfection’ of our lives — is a choice, a perspective — and just as real and valid than anything else. One of my life mantas: We are 100% the source of our own reality.

In my freshman year of college, I enrolled in an African American studies class that remains one of my favorite to date — taught by Quamé Patton, an inspiring soul I kept in touch with throughout my UC Berkeley tenure — where the premise of the class was focused on self-discovery and development. We read what I now consider the canon of texts that set a solid foundation for me as a freshman including Paolo Coelho’s The Alchemist and Don Miguel Ruiz’s The Four Agreements.

I will never forget this passage from The Alchemist:

“When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

This quote sticks with me because it makes you accountable for knowing what you want — What do you desire? What kind of person do you want to be? What do you want to contribute to this world in your one and only precious life? It’s what’s given me courage to make big leaps of faith into the unknown, like quitting Google twice to pursue my personal dreams of world travel and starting a business. It’s what aligns with my values of letting my heart guide my decisions, rather than fear or intellect. To most, a risky endeavor indeed. Faith is what allows us to surpass the grappling effects of fear to step off the ledge — knowing you’ll either be caught down below, or in those beautiful moments, set free in full flight.

In my online search for Quamé just now, I discovered he has since wrote a book himself, appropriately titled The Power of Letting Go.

In his own words:

What does it mean to “let go”? What it means to let go can be broken down into three states of being: 1) having faith, 2) following your heart, and 3) transcending time. When you exercise and incorporate these three states of existence, you will manifest the power of letting go. To actualize the power of letting go, you must let go of three things (or states of being): 1) fear, 2) egoic thought and 3) the past and future. The rewards from exercising this power to “let go” will be freedom, freedom from an endless list of undesirable states of being. When you examine the term itself “let go”, the term implies that something is being released or that something was being restrained. “Let” means to allow and “go” means to proceed or move. Thus, when you let go, you allow your “self” to move and be able to proceed with life. This is true freedom. Freedom is the opportunity to live, beyond merely existing physically, but to be able to experience.

How might we let go what grips us in pain and displeasure? How might we surrender our grasp for control? This passage also reminds of me what I consider one of my other life ethos: To experience the full spectrum of the human experience. To me, that is a form of freedom — wings soaring across the proverbial rainbow, a leap of faith.

I speak of all this, why? Perhaps because it seems like this year, things haven’t exactly been going my way.

And during these times when things aren’t turning out how we thought, we tend to reconcile and rationalize. Wonder who to blame, investigate what went wrong, scrutinize, regret. As history has shown, in times of uncertainty humans turn back towards faith. We see it now in our culture — a return towards Christian values and conservative ways of being that feel safe to us; familiar ground.

As for me, I find solace in surrender. An acceptance of what has happened, and a trust in what will come. I find comfort in acknowledging the limits of my own control — the edge of my will power testing the strength of my resilience. From a job rejection that I was perfectly qualified for, to an unexpected miscarriage earlier this year — these moments of loss and deep grief have exposed me to another spectrum of the human experience I had not yet experienced, and for that I am grateful.

Moreover, I find solace in knowing I have tried my best, and with that sense of agency, I am at peace when it’s clear the universe has something else in store for me. It’s a reaffirmation that I am on the ‘right’ path for me — these losses illuminating my deepest desires with greater clarity. The nudge I needed to reclaim my commitment to my business; the realization of how profoundly I want to create a family of my own. Perhaps this is my own sense-making to rationalize what has happened, or perhaps it is purely yielding to life’s ebbs and flows. It’s all a matter of perspective, our own subjective truth. We are 100% the source of our own reality.

As for faith, I did not grow up with a specific religion besides that of honoring the Earth and her spirits (think: Disney’s Pocahontas Colors of the Wind, my childhood anthem). Still, perhaps it is this greater connection to the invisible cosmos that allows me to feel like there’s a net to catch me at the bottom of it all. An unwavering support system that is the earth itself — the moist dirt and the moss and the roots of the trees — solid and steady; grounding; divine.

We are earth beings, after all. Rooted, yet always seeming to jump and grasp for the tree branch just beyond our reach. Gripping and aching and striving. Sometimes, we just need to let go.

And perhaps that’s the irony of life: by surrendering, we claim responsibility for our lives — by not enabling ourselves as the victim but rather, as the free agent — taking on the world with open-heartedness, wonder and acceptance. With trust comes peace.

So, here is where I find myself now: perched on this branch and about to leap off once again — buoyant with belief, the sea and soil just below — in complete and utter surrender.