I was having “one of those weeks.” We all fall prey to them —unless you live in a bubble, that is.
Things were hectic at work, my air conditioner needed Freon, plus there was something wrong with “chamber” of my oil burner. Confession time: I am mechanically challenged. Although the technician explained what a chamber does, I didn’t really grasp it; however, I instinctively knew it was going to cost some bucks.
I had an eye exam the previous day and needed a new prescription lenses. My son is to be married this September in California, which is good news. But my brain began monkeying with: How many air miles do I have? What kind of dress should I wear? (I refuse to wear the “mother of the groom” get-up!) And on and on ad naseum.
This is where the “bag lady” made her appearance and taunted: “Jeez! How are you gonna pay for all of this?” She always starts yakking when I worry about finances. “Monkey brain” joined the “bag lady” and they partied until the wee hours of the morning.
Driving to my Tuesday yoga class, my mind was anything but tranquil— and to boot, I was thinking of a worthy topic to pen for this column. With monkey brain in charge, coming up with a topic with any semblance of being interesting was virtually impossible.
Inside the yoga studio, monkey brain was still active, but once I sat on my mat in an easy pose I started to feel less “twitchy.” The lights dimmed, my eyes closed and I joined the class with the opening “om.”
The instructor began to speak softly about surrender — surrendering to the pose with ease and taking that “surrendering” consciousness out into our larger world. By the time we collectively said, “Namaste” (the spirt within me salutes the spirit in you) at the close of the practice, monkey brain had settled down, bag lady was hitting up someone else and quietude took over.
Driving home, my frame of mind was markedly different. I stopped at my “sacred spot” at the beach as I often do. I looked out over the bay and wondered why in the world I was so stressed over stuff that didn’t meet the end-of-the-world criteria.
I had a little talk with myself: “Ceil, you have faced the ‘end of the world’ as you knew it twice, and you are still standing — even better than before.”
I sat on my favorite bench and marveled at how I got through it all. As a recovering control freak, I do not wave the white flag in surrender often — and when I do it is with much internal struggle. Fixing my eyes on a gull flying across the sky, I experienced a magical moment of awareness: It is only when we surrender and make peace with the “end of the world” stuff that life hurls at us, that our loose ends began to stitch together creating a magnificent new tapestry.
Surrender is hard, don’t you think? We are taught to fight for what we want: We claw and push our way to the top — and Lord help those who are in our way. Obviously, fighting for the truth, love, family, promotion, or whatever will make us happy is healthy and desirable, most of the time. But there comes a point when we need to throw up our hands and surrender to what is.
I have a dear friend who is facing a reoccurrence of cancer. I am amazed at her attitude of surrender. Naturally, she is going to the best specialists and facility for her treatment, but she repeatedly says, “It’s the quality of my life that counts.” She trusts that she will be OK, no matter what circumstance is presented. For those who are invested in the reality series “Survivor,” forget about it! My friend is a real-life lady who is blazing her way through life despite it all. Last I heard she was off to Paris!
Everyone has a need to love and be loved, but some folks will look for love in all the wrong places. One “cold water morning” they awaken to discover that they are literally in a “wrong” place and their situation is less than healthy, to put it politely. In this case they have surrendered and settled for just anyone just to have someone.
And then there is the other end of the spectrum: There are folks who are so afraid of losing something they love, perhaps though a history of loss, that they refuse to love anyone and pass up a chance to be happy. I was surprised to find there is a name for this malady: “Philophobia:” The fear of falling in love.
In my humble opinion, (yes, I can be humble) this kind of mindset is just as destructive as looking for love in all the wrong places! Surrendering to love is scary; one can feel vulnerable and fearful. Love is a powerful emotion and it can usually throw a knock- out punch to fear. There is one caveat, however: We have to get into the ring and take the risk.
Summer has arrived and I obsess about the weather when I have guests visiting. I am so grateful to live in “Paradise Found”, however, my guests usually hail from out of state and they look forward to the “beach bum” days. Instead of surrendering to the weather and making an “in case of rain” itinerary, I stay glued to the weather channel. No matter how much I try, I cannot micro-manage Mother Nature.
Surrender is the opposite of control, as I see it. And control is a result of being attached to a specific outcome. What we fail to recognize is that the energy of surrender accomplishes much more than the energy of control.
Surrender is not about inaction, it is about taking action from a place of serenity. We always have a choice; do things the easy way or the hard way. We humans seem to prefer the latter: A life of push-pull, struggle-gripe and getting bent out of shape with little provocation. And then we complain that we are exhausted. Go figure!
Besides being a big fan of yoga, one of my favorite authors is Eckert Toole, he writes: “Always say “yes” to the present moment. What could be more futile, more insane, than to create inner resistance to what already is? What can be more insane to oppose life itself which is now and always now? Surrender to what is, Say “yes” to life—and see how life suddenly starts working for you than against you.”
Funny thing: Last week, I was stressed-out about many things, and in reality nothing has much changed, except my attitude. And bonus! In this surrender-mode, I got my column written.
How about that!
Celia Iannelli is a native New Yorker enjoying a second career — in ‘retirement’ — as a freelance writer. She lives in Jamesport.
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