Sitting here, looking out the window as I type, the clouds just blew in to cover the brightness of the sun and a strong breeze is picking up. Rain is hanging in the air. The birds are hopping around the freshly-filled feeder, chattering to each other like long lost friends.
I’ve been trying to flow with the events of this week, visiting my husband in the hospital daily as he recovers from surgery, balancing as best I can the other demands of my work and responsibilities of life. I’ve been moving through it all, keeping most things afloat, but with a sense of detachment. I’m here but my head isn’t engaged. Could be the lack of rest. Could be the shift in circumstances. Could also be that I’m resisting the situation on some level. Understandable, I think.
Philip once told me that “the beginning of magic is the acceptance of what is.”
Where does he come up with this stuff?
Every once in awhile he just opens his mouth and pearls of wisdom fall right out. That was one of those moments. I loved it so much, I jotted it down and pinned it to the vision board in my sanctuary.
(Note: this is not to imply that pearls of wisdom are always what comes out of him — most of the time it’s either bad dad jokes or details of some obscure article he just read.)
The acceptance of what is implies a type of surrender.
Surrender to WHAT exactly?
Surrender to what’s happening around me.
Surrender to the weirdness in my life this week.
Surrender to my fears and worries and emotional turbulence.
Surrender to the understanding that sometimes productivity is exhausting and unnecessary.
Surrender to the incandescent rainbow of blessings that have flowed into my life recently with talented doctors, caring nurses, hospital administration, friends reaching out, gifts and flowers and…yeah. All of that. There has been so much.
Surrendering to all of it. Surrendering to LIFE with all of its messy, disorganized, crazy, unpredictable events.
So that’s me right now. In my sanctuary, leaning in, figuring it out.
The funny and unexpected byproduct of all this surrendering is that what appears out of the depths of letting go is, oddly, love.
When all of the noise falls away, what’s left shimmering all around me is love and the deepest sense of thankfulness I’ve known. What a gift.
How and when do you surrender? I’d love to hear. Tell me in the comments below. You know I love great conversations.
Surrendering to love and gratitude,