Tag: surrender

The Presence of Child.

“You’re making it worse,” my mother would say. And, she was right. Albeit, at the time we were discussing the snarled mess of my hair – still I think there’s a lesson to be carried forward.

A child feeling pain will instantly recoil, pulling away from that which offends. Though as we age our curiosity compels, in spite of the pain we are moved to ‘resolve’. We want to understand, to challenge – perhaps, even benefit from our circumstance.

Yet still, we impute through external factors.

Why can’t we see, that all is within? The upset, the angst – the remorse and regret. All tightly bound with the intransigent threads of intolerance and perception.

As children, we instinctively retreat. We don’t beg for its vanquish, nor challenge its source. Our only reference based deep within heart.

We see a tree, we climb. And a stream, we cross. Every moment represents a new opportunity to surrender and ultimately awaken.

In peace, my sweet friends…

Namaste ❤

The Practice of Surrender.

When I was a little girl, I loved playing in the snow. For hours, sometimes till end of day – or at least until my limbs went numb. I’d trek through waist deep drifts, boldly facing the bitterness of cold simply for the joy of knowing it.

And when the sun began to fade, I’d make my way home again – exhausted from the labors of having fully lived.

At home, a fire was always blazing, and the hearth glowed radiating its warmth.

I suppose it would take only a moment or two before I’d drift away – abandoning thoughts of day in complete surrender.

It was the first time I can remember ever letting it all go; allowing peace to fill that space in between where unrest attempted to take hold. It was my divine release.

“You can’t fake surrender,” Krishna Das once shared. “But when it happens, it changes everything.”

Is it faith? Or, is it trust which grants our ultimate freedom? But more so, what is it that blocks our willingness to know peace within every moment?

We all have the memory of a ‘warm hearth’ to draw upon. Open to it, my loves – let this be your every moment.

In peace…

Namaste ❤️

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Rising Up Like the Trees.

My darlings, this morning one of my favorite passages by author Rainer Maria Rilke. From Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God.

“If we surrendered
to earth’s intelligence
we could rise up rooted, like trees.

Instead we entangle ourselves
in knots of our own making
and struggle, lonely and confused.

So like children, we begin again…

to fall,
patiently to trust our heaviness.
Even a bird has to do that
before he can fly.”

My darlings, there is such a sweetness to our surrender. When we relinquish control, we allow our hearts to be opened – to explore the context of our experience in ways we’ve never dared before.

Freed from our attachments, we become suddenly aware – our interactions much more profound. And, nestled within this new found consciousness, we find our ultimate refuge.

It is our refuge of spirit – our ultimate rest.

My darlings, at times we have to rely on life to be our ‘teacher’ – to share with us its lessons, even in those moments when we feel so ill-prepared.

But, we must let go to ‘fly’.

Indeed, if only we might surrender to the earth – our hearts may finally rise like the trees.

Surrendering to the Will of the Wind.

They say there are two ways to fell the wind: one, by way of being still and the other, by way of moving through.

I think we can all relate to this essence of being and doing. In our being, there is a sublime stillness – an all-pervasive sense of knowing that everything is connected.

And, within our doing we are reminded of the wind’s need to envelop spirit – to understand and know all that exists within us.

In the distance we watch as the leaves fall in twisted patterns from the limbs – with movements ‘much like those of a butterfly in flight.’

Effortlessly coexisting, and so seamlessly intertwined. In hopes that we might realize the balance, between the winds need to playfully tousle our hair, and ours…to appreciate the depth of its caring.

The wind has its reasons, my darlings – and ours is not to question why.

But rather, to surrender our hope to its will – and in doing so, remember our purpose for being alive.