Are you willing to give up control to have what you want in life?

Early morning. Lying in my bed. Comfy. Warm. Cozy.

I listen to the sounds of the house. The gentle breathing of my beloved. Beaumont snuffling in his sleep where he lies on the floor at the side of the bed. The hum of the furnace. The faint, distant thrum of a train rolling westward out of the city. The air feels fluid, soft.

I feel enveloped in a womblike glow of peace, calm, graciousness.

Morning has not yet broken. The day is slow in its awakening.

Sitting at my desk.

Music plays softly in the background. Piano. C, Eb, G, Bb. My desk light casts a warm glow on my fingers. Lights of cars travelling across the bridge sparkle in the early light. The surface of the river shimmers in the light shining on the pathway under the bridge.

Yesterday, there was an ice island forming at the base of the middle abutment. In the warmth of yesterday’s temperature, the ice has disappeared. The river flows freely, moving in harmony with nature’s grace.

Life is like the river. We flow gracefully, effortlessly in its never-ending harmony and then, something happens. A hurt. A loss. A sadness.

We stiffen up. Freeze. And ice begins to clog the flow. Sometimes, in our pain, we isolate. Stand still. Run faster. Resist. Push back against life’s constant flow.

Sometimes, we’ll do it all repeatedly, trying anything everything we can think of in a desperate attempt to stop whatever pain is damning up the flow.

Slowly, like ice forming on the river as winter approaches, we begin to move more labouriously, our hearts become heavy. Our limbs stiffen. Our minds circle again and again, like water in an eddy, around and around we swirl, trying to dislodge whatever is holding us in place, pulling us down. We struggle to control life, forgetting life is not to be controlled. It must be experienced.

And then, spring arrives and we begin to feel the first promising breaths of hope teasing our aching hearts and limbs into motion. Frightened it will not last, we cling a bit more to whatever pattern we’ve developed to keep ourselves safe from feeling the pain of hurts, loss, sadness.

The river flows freely this morning. Moving with the grace of nature. It will freeze again before winter is done, and always, it will thaw in nature’s continuous flowing of the seasons.

My heart is light this morning. Flowing freely in the beauty of nature awakening to the day.

There will be hurts to come (there always are), losses, sadness to experience. And always, when I immerse myself in the flow of life, when I release my resistance, my belief I can control life’s happenings, I am free to flow effortlessly and with grace in life’s unending river dancing in the light of each new day.

Are you willing to release the need to control life and be with the flow?

Let’s flow together!

Namaste.

13 thoughts on “Are you willing to give up control to have what you want in life?

  1. I have been trying to go with the flow then life gets in the way. Sometimes that leads to interesting and unpredictable outcomes. We will not talk about those that are less than stellar as they part of one’s continuous learning experiences

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ah yes. That thing called life! ๐Ÿ™‚ Except, life is the flow and the flow is life so whatever is in the way is life in all its unpredictability! … ๐Ÿ™‚ I know. Irksome me. ๐Ÿ™‚

      And yes. Please. Let’s not talk about the less than stellar! let’s all be stars shining so bright even they become entranced by the glow and dispense with unstellarylike behaviours! ๐Ÿ™‚ Have a beautiful day dear iwona.

      Like

  2. A lovely, thought provoking post. Pain causes us to grow, without it we would settle into the ease of familiar things and never strike out into the unknown. The most profoundly satisfying times in my life followed times of great pain and sorrow, when I found my way through and saw that I had survived.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I so agree TwirlyGirl. My ‘painful’ moments create space for me to unfurl my wings, just a little bit further, so that I can fly, just a little bit higher. I really appreciate your presence — your light is warm and lovely.

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