When there’s nothing else to do. Surrender.

“Surrender”  Alcohol ink on Yupo Paper
11″ x 14″
Louise Gallagher 2019

It’s an interesting space, this place where I surrender my ‘knowing’ to embrace the all of what I do not know, about life.

My active mind wants me to believe that if I just acknowledge my not knowing, I’ll be able to figure out all the knowing I need.

My intuitive, essential self knows, there is nothing to know except this moment right now. Nothing to do but to give into the river of life in which I flow freely, in this moment right now, and be present, alive, here.

In surrender, there is no knowing. There just is. What is. Reality as I see it. Experience it. Know it. Without any insistence on the part of my mind that I can channel it, change it, create it, make it into anything other than what is.

In the big moments in our lives, many of us will come to that moment of surrender. That dark night of the soul where we know there is nothing else we can do. We can’t keep fighting. Crying. Hurting. Being here.

In that space, we surrender and accept, we do not have the answers. We do not know the way.

In that space, we accept there is a force outside ourselves, greater than ourselves, other than, that we submit to. We can’t see it. Perhaps don’t even believe in it. We just know, we surrender.

And in that surrender, a path opens up. We don’t know where it’s going. If it’s even ‘the right’ path. We just know, we need to take another step and trust the next one will appear.

Looking back, we stand in awe of that moment. Not because it appeared but rather, because in all our trying to get there, trying to make it happen, nothing happened. And then, in our surrender, it appeared.

Living our daily lives in that place of surrender can be difficult. We’ve got lists of things to do. Places to be.

Who’s got time for surrender when there’s just too much to get done and not enough hours in a day?

We can practice surrender in those small, every day moments.

We can meditate. Walk. Dance. Ride a bike. Do something that takes our minds off our ‘doing’ to fall gently into our being.

Yesterday, I chose to paint. I did have ‘a goal’. When a word chooses me for the year, I create a painting to remind me of the word.

I sank into meditation and a vision of ‘surrender’ arose and while the final painting does not look like that vision, it feels like surrender to me.

When I create, I let go of ‘the outcome’ and fall into the grace of being present in the moment of creation. I play. I have fun. I experiment. I ‘don’t know’ as much as respond to how the paint flows, the colours blend, the canvas calls.

It is a beautiful, enlivening place. A space that reminds me, always, to surrender and…

Breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

As you go through your day, stop every so often, breathe and ask yourself,

What am I experiencing in this moment, right now?

What if, my experience is not ‘the thing’? What if ‘the thing’ is to let everything be as it is, just as it is?

What if, I sit and breathe and let what is be my experience in this moment?

Now, feel it. Be it. Breathe into it. Right now.

Namaste.

 

 

 

9 thoughts on “When there’s nothing else to do. Surrender.”

  1. LG,

    As I read your piece – and thinking about ‘the surrender’ you’ve been writing about I’m reminded of two phrases that have stuck with me:

    1. Ships are safe in a harbour, but that’s not what ships are for.

    2. Trust the process …

    Surrendering, methinks, is about trusting yourself to sail away and encounter risk – to embrace risk, because risk and reward, risk and achievement, risk and fulfillment are all happy companions. Sometimes we bit our nails or close our eyes, but mostly we shine brightly and amaze ourselves in appreciation of what we knew we were capable of all along.

    Have a great year and enjoy your word …

    Cheers,
    Mark

    p.s. your strategy gives a whole new meaning to the term “I surrender …”

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I like your words today, and your words from two days ago — wise man you!

      Surrender is about truth — and even more — faith — that no matter the risks, we will be okay and yes, we will amaze!

      Thanks my friend.

      Like

  2. Ahhhhhhh. Deep breath of thanks for this, Louise.
    Learning to go palms up when I’ve come to the end of myself
    is a gift I’m discovering and unwrapping late in life:)
    Such a potent thing, the act of going low so that grace can
    sweep into our yielded-open hands and heart.
    Breathing yes and thanks, friend.
    – Jennifer

    Like

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