Tag: surrender

Walk Through the Doorway

When I’ve experienced any kind of physical pain or emotional unease in my life, something in me often clinched and shut down as I tried to control it, make it disappear. But what if acceptance and letting go of control is the only way to the other side? Maybe all we’ve been taught about physicality and the human form is upside-down. What if hanging on tightly to how we think it’s supposed to be is opposed to allowing life to unfold? And what if acceptance is the doorway to surrender, and surrender the doorway to feeling less pain as I become aware of my soul’s design?

My inner spirit, or soul, knows my life’s design better than my “I” identity, constructed over the years for survival. Ultimately life is not about surviving; it’s about letting go into something greater than your physical form and individual life. Before you are born and after you die, you know this. In between, your soul guides you to deeper and deeper awareness about the nature of life and your journey within your lifetime, and beyond. Everything that happens is part of your soul design. Nothing is wrong and needs to be erased or eradicated. When I fully accept this, surrendering to it without attachment to any particular outcome, I consciously become part of a flow. Life carries me instead of my trying to force it in a certain direction.

Gradually, in letting go, I relax and allow myself to be one with my soul, accepting what seems hard as part of life, part of oneness. This shift occurs when I see difficulty as a doorway and not prison bars. As long as I try to control (and stop) it, it tightens and hangs on. When I surrender to it as my soul’s path in this lifetime, a subtle shift occurs at the heart level. My experience of it is lighter, easier, and I can sometimes feel the presence of a loving beingness beyond and also encompassing my body. 

A few years ago, I lived through a diagnosis of and treatment for breast cancer. Emotional and physical pain arose, but when I allowed myself to cry and feel the fear, it began to release. I came to realize that this was part of my soul’s journey and I was being given a gift of profound connection to Spirit. That perspective helped me through the whole process, not without occasional discomfort, but with trust, inner peace, and tremendous gratitude for a growing awareness of myself as eternal spirit in a temporary human form. Acceptance had been the doorway to experiencing this.

My soul’s journey continues, and each day I am learning more and more to welcome whatever arises as part of my life’s design. I remind myself that everything is Spirit, and infinite wisdom may be hidden in the smallest details. My heart’s doorway opens wider all the time…until accepting becomes so deep that eventually every door falls away and there is only unbroken peaceful Presence. 

All I Need to Know

I have always loved the phrase that many Native Americans use to refer to God and all of life: “The Great Mystery.” There is such wisdom and spiritual surrender in those words, a quiet acknowledgment that the universe and our place in it cannot be fully understood by the human mind. This wondrous mystery is what I experience when I walk alone in Nature or stare up at the stars at night.

Wonder, and joy at the beauty. Yet, for me there has also always been an element of sadness in contemplating eternity and my place in it. As a child I felt great fear when thinking of my life within infinity and the “world going on forever.” It was only in my adult spiritual quest that I came to a deepening and expansion of my awareness and a loosening of the fear. In “accepting what is” I found solace for my sorrow. When I stopped trying to find an explanation for life, the closed doors of my perception opened to the experience of Spirit, my soul’s essence and what is at the heart of all existence.

Even at times of emotional and physical challenge (the death of my parents; treatment for breast cancer), the presence of Spirit has sustained me. There will always be a mixture of thoughts and feelings when I look at the world that surrounds me: love of life as well as grief at its transitory, impermanent nature. When sadness arises, I have learned over the years that the wisest response is surrender: accepting those sad feelings and realizing they are only one part of who I am. It is my human identity that feels fear or grief; my soul witnesses all of life peacefully, without question or judgment. Within that peace, I let everything go and live in the Mystery. I don’t need to know all the answers; I just remain open to experiencing the beauty and wonder available to me in every moment.

I recently had an experience that highlighted this wisdom. I am an avid birdwatcher, and every year I visit Mt. Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts, for the spring bird migration. Hundreds of migrating birds come through the cemetery because of its beautiful habitat, and local birders are there to greet them. On one particular morning, after days of rain, I walked inside the front gate and paused to get out my binoculars. A man standing nearby enthusiastically commented on the beauty of the day and how he was certain the end of the rain would bring all the birds in. I agreed with him, and as I started to walk away, he added, “I don’t know much about science or exact bird identification, but I know how beautiful and special each one is.” “And that’s all you need to know,” I replied.

 At that, he burst, quite loudly, into song: “That may be all I need to know….” He laughed delightedly as he finished and asked me if I knew the song. I smiled and said, “Yes, I do.” So he sang it all over again, practically vibrating with joy. We then wished each other a wonderful day, and each went our way. As I turned to look back at him, he was still smiling and singing to himself. What sweet synchronicity in encountering this rather eccentric earth angel who reminded me of the wisdom of life’s beauty. I am surrounded by that beauty with every step. And, truly, that is all I need to know, ever.

A Perfect Life

Growing up in middle America in the 1950s and 60s (as I did), the standard for perfection was: husband, wife, children, house with a picket fence, good job, money in the bank. We were taught to aspire to that, to see it not only as perfect, but “normal.” In addition, the silent subtext was: white, heterosexual, Christian. Anything outside those tight parameters was viewed as suspect, not a perfect American-dream life.

What if you don’t fall into any of those descriptions? What if you don’t want any of those things? What if that version of “normal” feels untrue or excluding? In the late 1960s and 70s, individuals began to break through those stereotypes and claim different versions of perfect. Normal became an outdated concept, and diversity took its place. Diversity in race, religion (or none), nationality, gender, sexual preference, physical ability, age, job descriptions. Male/female stereotypes and roles began to change. Same-sex, gender-fluid, and mixed-race couples were able to live more open lives as political movements affected attitudes and expectations. Many people chose not to marry or have children at all.

New options appeared, but a number of deeply ingrained viewpoints remained. There is much yet to be transformed within our social structures. Nevertheless, change is still occurring; hearts are opening to kindness and inclusion. We are gradually bridging into a more expansive, loving future. In the meantime, how do we view our lives? What is “perfect” in the context of the world we currently live in? Maybe that is an idea, a goal, that needs to be redefined—or disappear entirely. Perhaps perfection as we have always viewed it is an illusion that only keeps us dissatisfied and looking outward for happiness and peace of mind.

Perhaps “perfect as is” is a more useful perspective— being human exactly as we are. Instead of looking at ourselves and life events and asking “What’s wrong with me?” or “Why is this happening to me?” we can view every situation as part of our soul plan, all with a purposeful design, which may not reveal itself immediately. Trust is necessary. Our minds think we know what’s best, based on what we’ve been told all our lives, but our hearts often know better. And our souls know that we were born to live the exact life we are living. Ever expanding, ever evolving.

When I look at my life that way, judgment and comparison fall away. I am not aspiring to change how everything is unfolding in order to meet some preconceived idea. Over the years, I have learned to surrender to the flow of each day’s events and to any feelings that arise. Whatever is before me and within me is what I’m meant to experience. The spiritual journey I have been on for many years has shown me that my soul is the source of my life’s direction and when I am guided by its wisdom, I am centered in inner peace and calm. If we listen, each of our souls directs us wisely. Your life is perfect as is.

Phoenix Rising

On the day of my first radiation treatment for breast cancer, I had a sudden thought during my morning meditation: “This is the fire that will burn away the imprints of all that came before.” Meaning, what we each carry around with us from our past, whether pain, suffering, loss, or uncried tears. Every human being faces challenges in life that because of their intensity imprint us deep inside and thus affect how we live day to day, with hesitancy or fear perhaps. When the imprints come to the surface and are released, freedom and peace arise. Mostly my life has been filled with love and happiness, but I have also had difficult experiences, including breast cancer and a lifelong fear of death/eternity. Ironically, this current cancer path has opened up a deeply soothing and expansive soul connection. Now I am at the last fiery gate. The phoenix stands before me.

The legend of the phoenix, also associated with the sun, is one of rebirth and renewal, of letting go of the past and rising anew in the present. In various cultures, including Greek and Egyptian, the bird was said to live several hundred years and then die in flames, its successor arising from the ashes. The idea of resurrection and immortality is often connected with it. It is a universal human theme—life beyond death, reincarnation, and “fresh starts.” How we live these possibilities in our own lives is part of our individual design as a human soul. Personally, I have always found the phoenix legend fascinating. I read a children’s book about it when I was 9 or 10, and it has always stayed with me. Is this my time to personally live it, symbolically, so many decades later?

At the end of my first week of radiation, beloved Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh died at the age of 95. His teachings had had a profound impact on my spiritual growth. I knew there was some significance for me in the timing of his transition because the day before, I had prayed for further help in fully accepting infinity/death. Over the years, I had come to a deeper peace about it, primarily because of my work with Panache Desai, but I could feel a kernel of fear remaining.  That morning, a friend posted a link to a talk by Thich Nhat Hanh on overcoming fear of death, and in his daily online meditation, Panache spoke of releasing the past and living completely as your soul. On my morning walk, a vividly colorful rainbow stretched across the sky during a sudden shower. I felt my prayer being answered.

Insight and deepened awareness come to us in many ways—through wise teachers, through magical moments in Nature, and through inner epiphany. All of these touched my heart that day. In his talk, Thich Nhat Hanh spoke of the continuity of all being in the cosmos, or “interbeing” as he called it. We are waves that have arisen into form from infinite consciousness at birth, and we have never really left it. Nothing is born or dies, in Thich Nhat Hanh’s view; there is only eternal interbeing. Panache too continually speaks of the infinite divine Presence beyond form.

This is the wisdom I have been repeatedly guided to on this breast cancer path. As I gradually released attachment to my body’s appearance and my past identity with it (form), I found myself becoming more and more fluid (formless) in my day-to-day life. Surrendering to that fluidity brought deeper trust and acceptance of all of life/death/eternity. I was experiencing the flow of interbeing in which there is no birth or death, just awareness. Loving awareness. It is something that can’t be explained through the mind but only experienced through the heart and soul. This is our life’s journey, every one of us. Each path unique, yet all connected in infinite consciousness. The waves and the water as One.

So in the ashes of what appears to be an experience or a life ending is only the phoenix rising continuously. And fear falls away in that rising and that continuity. Peace. Radiation begins and ends, and the grace of a rainbow appears suddenly in a gray sky. That multicolored light is always present. Our true nature is timeless, formless, eternal. We are the multiverse expressing magnificence in the world.
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Note: My last radiation treatment (surgery and chemo also complete) was on 1 Tijax in the Maya calendar. Tijax stands for healing and miracles. Who could ask for a more perfectly aligned synchronicity?

A Camino: Firewalk and Life Streaming

When I first heard the diagnosis “breast cancer,” I was lost in shock and fear. How could this happen in my life? To me?! After a few days, I gradually was able to re-center in the peace within me, to remember that everything that happens in my life is part of a soul plan that I was part of designing before my birth. Nothing is a coincidence, and everything is connected to everything else. I am one soul in one lifetime on one planet. Yet I am also part of the entire fabric of being in the universe. Sometimes it takes loss or crisis in our lives to fully realize this. When things fall away or apart, the long view becomes more visible.

Illness or disease can stop you short in your tracks and remind you of your own mortality. Even if you think you are unattached to outcome or completely surrendered to however events unfold. Even if you feel connected to a greater consciousness beyond life and death. There is always more surrender available, deeper all the time. And there is always more letting go of attachment—until there’s nothing left but soul. The physical body holds within it the last attachment. You definitively let go of that attachment at death. But you can also let go of it as part of life. This is what is meant by “dying unto yourself.” You release attachment not only to your identity but to your physical form. You live your life as your soul, immersed in peaceful Presence. The same immersion in Presence that occurs at death. Only you are radiantly alive and aware.

I have experienced times of surrender and Presence on my spiritual journey, but when breast cancer came into my life, I stepped onto an accelerated path: my own Camino.* The more I trusted that I was being divinely guided on this path, the more everything flowed. During and after surgery, I felt surrounded by angelic healers, floating in profound Oneness. My physical form seemed almost nonexistent. I returned home to heal and rest quietly. A week later, the pathology report showed wide clear margins—excellent! Then my surgeon told me that new test results indicated I should probably include chemotherapy in my treatment plan along with radiation. I had already accepted the latter, but the combo frightened me. Attachment to my body as it currently looked and felt was front and center. I was being asked to dive even deeper into acceptance and surrender.

My breast-cancer-survivor friends helped me with this acceptance (as did my very knowledgeable and kind doctors), but then my own inner genie handed me a vision that changed the way I saw everything. During a powerful meditation one morning, I suddenly understood what breast cancer represented in my life. In my mind’s eye, I saw an image of burning coals, like those used in the traditional firewalk, practiced by many cultures for thousands of years as a rite of faith, healing, or initiation. Immediately, I knew that for me radiation and chemo were the “burning coals,” and that I would safely “walk” through them as I surrendered attachment to my body and trusted my soul’s journey. My Camino walk is a fire of initiation, transmutation, and expansion beyond the physical. I envisioned myself afterward as pure soul light. No attachments, just life streaming through eternity in timeless splendor.

This is our collective destiny: to walk through humanity’s fires and emerge as light, each in our own way. Every person’s journey is unique. Each soul path divinely orchestrated. On the other side of our firewalks is a Presence that permeates the universe in life and in death. In truth, they are one: infinite beingness. When we realize that, all fear falls away, and we can live our lives with peaceful, open hearts and souls.
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*The Camino is a well-known path of spiritual pilgrimage across northern Spain.