October 10, 2021


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,


Logo flourish

4 responses to “Surrender”

  1. Deana says:

    This is an important one! You’ve heard of “let go, let god” and even when we think we are doing that, we aren’t. It takes a pivotal scary i-can’t-fix-this-one event to strip down that ego and let the universe take it over. And it knows what it’s doing. In my most harrowing and vulnerable and most completely numb moments the people around me naturally and organically moved right in with love, compassion, with ideas and distractions, with their time, and all to keep me going. It was the truest love; the best part of friendship, the most valuable thing they had and they were giving it to me – ME! At the darkest time in my life, when everything but breathing was blocked out, the universe showed me grace and reminded me I was never really in control. And never really alone. I didn’t have to have all the bases covered or have it all figured out to receive love, I didn’t even have to ask for the help and guidance, it just showed up like someone broke open my universal piggy bank of love I forgot I even had when my rainy day came.

    I hope that’s somehow remotely relative to your story, but its what your words reminded me off. You’re allowed those moments to just be carried along – the universe will take care of the rest because you’ve made good investments in people too when they needed to be carried along.


  2. Dearest Lisa:
    I’m so pleased Phil is doing well after his complicated surgery…Thank God, Lisa.

    I just learned I have spinal stenosis—Iva the walk with out disabling fatigue. I have to be in a wheel chair full time. I can’t surrender, Lisa. I go to the mailbox in a scooter.
    I’m an artist . I sent you one of my books: The Perfection of Form.
    What can I do? I can’t surrender, Lisa.
    Love& hope,
    Joyce Waddell Bailey

    • Lisa Kahn says:

      Hello Joyce! I loved your book — you are such a gifted artist. I’m so sorry to hear about your diagnosis. By surrender I don’t mean giving up. Never give up. I see the strong, courageous spirit in you that shines through in your thoughtful comment (as in your art). I was thinking more of surrender as a form of simple acceptance so we can find a solid path forward. Keep on shining, Joyce! My best love, Lisa

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