They all sound pretty good, especially for the tired seeker, the disillusioned alcoholic, or the chronically depressed shell of a person.
Lofty, promising goals.
Like train stations in the future where you can not only rest, but live at rest for good.
Somehow it seems that by surrendering, accepting, allowing, and being, you’ll have finished the game.
No more suffering.
No more searching.
No more weird fears and endless worrying and hating your aging body.
At least that’s how the secret promise feels to me.
I appreciate those mighty words as much as the next person.
Of course I do.
The human being is meticulously fitted out to have these desires.
It keeps the dream alive.
It keeps us going.
It feeds the idea of one day coming to that amazing bright life without obstacles, filled with mountains of good stuff and sweet love, where you do nothing but float and smile and maybe fart gold dust.
So of course you try it on, taste it, and explore it.
You try really hard to surrender, to accept, to allow, and be.
Sometimes it seems to work!
Most of the time it doesn’t…
Sometimes it feels like you’re getting the hang of it.
And many times you’re as lost as in your most memorable lost moments.
I don’t have the answer.
My role in this life (that I don’t understand even slightly), is obviously the inspired storyteller, obsessed with describing his experiences of waking up.
I share what comes up, obviously.
I try to capture the stuff that feels amazing right now, but might make no sense or have no real meaning a day later.
I don’t know.
I’m simply doing my part.
Maybe surrendering, accepting, allowing and being are all different words for the exact same thing.
Doing your part.
Fortunately, that’s not up to us.
(Photo by @mohamadaz, for Unsplash)