To surrender is a practice. Something we play with in our meditations, on our mats, with plant medicine, in travel, through writing, art, dance, and anything that offers you a flow state. What we sometimes forget is that the practice is not the end game.
The practice is to prepare us for when life calls upon us to actually surrender. And when life calls upon us in that way, it is an opportunity to work towards mastery.
At first, surrender is the place you find yourself after you’ve exhausted all possibilities to change the inevitable, and that pesky outcome remains the same. It means trusting that grace will carry you forward into the great unknown (or undesirable); it is the ultimate expression of faith in the universe and it’s divine plan.
And as life unfolds and you find a practice, surrender inches towards mastery. Which is getting there before you’ve exhausted yourself. Which feels a lot like the embodiment of grace. The divine.
Because when you finally surrender, you admit that maybe life isn’t supposed to look how you expected it to. And maybe not all storylines are meant to have a happy ending. But it’s all there as a guide that brings you forward to the place you’re meant to be. So you become curious, open and courageous. That is grace.
Having a practice means embracing the beginners mind over and over again. It means leaning into the times you fail. It means non-attachment to your performance. It means a radical rejection of the patterns of shame that have taken deep root within your body. To me, to practice means - almost more than what you are practicing - that you show up for yourself with exquisite compassion.