It is a complex time for this girl, and yet, I’m able to concede that in our world, we are all going through complexities. It is of small usefulness to compare and contrast my struggles to those of another, because by that measure, my struggles do not carry any significance. There is always a bigger, more grave struggle.
And I can tell you I’ve already tried that life, the one where I discredit my own suffering in order to make room for all the other suffering. While it does not help to stew in our woes, it equally places us at a disadvantage to discredit all personal suffering. For me, anyway, it tends to slide off the roof one day, knocking me silly in the process. I hear that’s how it goes for others, too.
On the other side of silly, and with some levity and balance regained, I am in a long season of transition. I have no formal role, aside from living in my family, my community, and my mundane day to day. Somehow, circumstance continues to accumulate. I’m holding still, and small, while completing what I like to call “the diligences,” or “the everyday sacred,” the humble work of the householder. I adore it, and some days I forget to adore it.
Somehow, again, in this bit of my life, I am being called to surrender. Called by whom, you may ask? I’ll leave that open to interpretation, as we are all called by different agents. Bit by bit, more and more, I am being called to surrender, and it’s freeing, and it hurts. Pain is weakness leaving the body, yes?
People react to the word, “weakness.” We start to reframe and assuage the nuance off of that word. But, on this side of silly, I am fully capable of accepting that I have moments wherein I feel sensations of “weakness.” I embrace them, in fact, because they help me feel more fully alive, more in touch with my humility, and more free of my ego. They let me know where I have work yet to do, and kindness yet to sow–for myself. I can’t very well be an excellent neighbor, if I can’t stop judging my softest self, right?
And this is where it becomes complex–I am being called to surrender, but I am also being called to fight, as we all are, for the protection of civil liberties and our humblest of neighbors. This, is dissonance, my friends. This is tumultuous, and can not be allowed to shove us into defeat.
The last many days, our home has been under construction. My birds have been unhappy. The farm, where my rooster friend is welcome, is snowed in. He is trapped in small quarters, and the snow keeps falling and falling. It is trapping the animals, the elderly, the underprepared and unprotected, the homeless, the ill, and the frail. My life has been jostled, by other things too big to name, too private, too new. This is what the call to surrender feels like–you can’t fix it, Tanya. You can’t control it, Tanya. You can’t change it, Tanya.
Surrender, in the face of all this, is stopping the useless struggle. It is setting down the desire for a different reality. It is the dropping of illusion.
And it is the act of, therefore, clearing space. When we drop useless struggle, and illusion, we are clearing space.
Surrender is not falling into defeat or ambivalence.
Surrender is not acceptance, for acceptance is a taking in of circumstances, as is; surrender is a releasing, as is.
In my experience, To Surrender, is to give way. Send away. Make way. Clear the decks. In order that I may hear. With new stillness and clarity. I surrender so that I may maneuver more lightly.
In the end, I am a fighter, and a “doer.” I am not made for surrender. That is why, when I’ve hear the call for surrender in the past, I’ve simply shut it out and pushed on, or I’ve shut down. Now, when I hear it, I cry. When I am being asked to surrender, I cry, because lately, that which has presented itself after surrender, has not been easy. I cry, because I am afraid, in a moment of sweet weakness. Then, it’s past, and I wait, listening. It’s always like that for me; I don’t know how it is for others.
And I can tell you it’s harder to keep doing the diligences, humbly, and waiting, whilst surrendering. It’s harder because of that feeling of momentary sacrifice. Yes, I understand now that it’s only momentary. Surrender is momentary; shutdown is longer, for me. Shutdown is my defeat.
So here, now. Making space. Surrendering, trusting. Listening. Yesterday, I realized. During my diligences, I’m waiting for my assignment, my mission. Yes, surrender. But, “For what?” Sometimes there is no answer. Yesterday, there was an answer. What is my mission? (If one does not have a mission, one does not have a fight, one has confusion.)
And just like that: my mission, as clear as a bell, delivered yesterday during my diligences. One word. Focus here. Nonviolence.
I cried. I am fiery, prone to reactivity–a dragon. I hide it well. My hardest work is suppressing this robust part of my nature. It is my nemesis. Arch-enemy. Whatever. I have work to do.
And what about tools? Suppression is not going to work here.
But, Temperance–softer than suppression, a reconciling?
More Diligence. Self care. Yoga. Clarity. Continuing the work of surrender.
Fine.
What is your mission in the fight? What clues are hidden in your own nature?
I love the idea of housework as doing diligence. I find that now, in my time of non-demanding work, I resent the things I must do to keep the house and home going, the shopping, the chopping, the cleaning, then start again. It is good to think of it as the same as my dharma practice. Start again, now. Start again. Thanks.
Yes! I find great frustration in the story that has been built around the householder as “less than.” The opposite side of the story being, of course, that the worker outside the home is “more than.” More competent, more valuable, more esteemed. Stepping out of my career, and stepping down on the ladder, in fact, back to more humble work, has been a wrestling match with myself, of epic proportion, you can imagine. Nonetheless, some fruits are coming from this labor–I have dissected the fallacy that the householder cannot achieve “enlightenment,” insofar as I am after it, as a sensation of peace, and an intentional diminishment of the power resent and remorse and suffering have over my everyday construct. My role models in this, of course, the matrons who have passed on, who made levity out of circumstance, and did not allow it to break their spark: Mary Alice, my great Aunt Sally, Sarah’s mom–Momo, there are so many! When I drift from my diligence as a moving meditation practice, it becomes resent, just as for you. I’ve come to know that feeling as the drift, the disconnect, the need to hurdle the everyday and grasp. So, surrender, for me, is–surrender “grander plans,” for this moment–something is coming. Keep that space clear. It is also, surrender to your humility, your smallness, and the specialness of your smallness. It’s this voice that is keeping me from launching into the disconnect again. I love work that is grave, and intense–the work of death, suffering, and all the beauty that is hidden in there, and showing people, “You can look here, and here, and here!” And then embracing that sometimes people can’t, and we sit in the dark, and hygge, I guess. Then embracing that in the end I may change nothing–people still die. Losses still happen. The work still mattered. I’m good at it. It takes me out of my family. I haven’t been able to crack that code. So, yes, starting again. Learning how to crawl again. ❤
P.S. I just reread this and laughed about my role models, because I recall they are not always know for their “diligence,” but rather–I admire what they had, and for me, it’s not the method, it’s the outcome I’m after, and I know I’ve got to unshackle myself from my “business as usual” construct to get there. But that spark! Whew.
Yeah. My mom wasn’t really known for household diligence. You’ve certainly heard about the refrigerator box sitting next to the dryer where all the dry clothes were tossed. You want a pair of socks? better go diving in the box. Hope you find your own underwear when the entire clan is wearing tighty whiteys. But when the spirit caught her, she stayed with it. I’m thinking rugs, spinning, tatting, pots, and so much more. And I’ll never forget the smile in those eyes…….
PS – I hear it is possible you might make it to the march on the 21st. I’d love to be able to show you the new digs if you have time. We’re having a chili party here after.
I would love that. Excellent!