Lessons With A Storyteller

A friend stopped by yesterday and she shared her story of a journey she had been on.  Even though she is now back home the journey's impact in her life is still quite apparent.  She stepped out of her comfort zone, flew thousands of miles, and immersed herself into a different culture and way of life.  I was touched and honored that she made a visit with me a part of her journey.

We all are storytellers.  Our stories are how we share who we are, and who we are becoming, with others in our lives. It is important that we have experiences in life, and it is equally important that we share these experiences with others. The sharing of our stories is as important as the adventure of having lived them.

I believe if we could value each others stories we would come to value our own.  To sit being completely attentive as someone relates life's events is a valuable gift to each other and to ourselves.  Journeys and adventures are a daily part of life.  Learning to realize and recognize their importance helps us honor  ourselves and each other.

My friend talked about active listening skills as a way of supporting and helping others to speak their stories.  Being totally present as someone shares their story allows that person to feel embraced and accepted.  So many times as we listen our attention is not in that moment.  We often are thinking about our own experiences and waiting for the moment we can speak.  So often we do not listen to hear and understand, we listen to respond.  We use that moment to tell our story rather than just being present for the other person.  

As my friend spoke yesterday her words and their expression carried the excitement of her experience.  She talked of how this journey was a culmination of something that had begun in her childhood, and having made this journey was not only achieving a goal, but was also the starting of new goals that will lead to new adventures.  The story and the storytellers are weaving new threads and creating a new pattern that changes the fabric of life.

Each story is important.  The teller's role is important as the creator of the story.  The listener's role is important because they are the canvas on which the teller creates images that bring the story to life.  Through this sharing we are all enriched.

There are big stories and small stories in everyone's lives.  Hearing and validating them gives meaning to each others experiences and journeys through life.  The storyteller is important, not only in the telling but also in the keeping of the stories.  We each are a storyteller and a story keeper.  

In indigenous cultures the storyteller passes on the knowledge of the culture to new generations.  As our world grows so many customs and traditions are not handed down and are eventually forgotten.  Listening to and hearing each others stories are as much a lost art as is the role of the storyteller.  When this is lost there is a tear in the weave of life's fabric and the connection to past and future is broken.  The weave of the fabric is changed and life flows in a different pattern.

Being present and able to listen to each others stories allows us to connect to the individual lessons we bring to the collective.  Realizing that we are all a part of life can allow us to touch our empathy.  Events that happen in our own lives, our communities, and the world all impact each of us as citizens of the world. 

We are the emissaries of change in our world.  Compassion, empathy, and  awareness are the tools of the peaceful warrior.  Our stories, both spoken and heard, are the sword of creating the change we hope for. Remember our stories, tell our stories, and hear the stories of each other; together as individuals we  create the collective for change.

Thanks to my friend for sharing her story and for helping me find the words to write of my understanding.  Her words created pictures that allowed me to process my own thoughts to her sharing her experience.  This touched my own dreams and goals and took my own awareness in a new direction.  A new pattern began emerging in my own life; perhaps a new understanding began a weave in her life; and hopefully as you read this there is a thread of a new beginning for you as well.  

Ah ho, it is good. 

              

Sabbatical In October: a practice of being mindful

As October winds down autumn will soon be ending and my backyard is filled with gold, red,and brown leaves.  They make a crunchy carpet that crackles and swooshes to the presence of feet walking through it. I have been off the grid, for the most part, during this month.  Attempting to reduce my footprint on life, and allowing life to impact me as needed.  A time to restore me to an intrinsic balance with nature.

The first four Wednesdays of this month I taught an OLLI class at Bradley University.  It was "Mapping Your Life".  During these four weeks I immersed myself in leading this class, and at the same time being a student to what the class taught me.  I always come away from this practice learning so much more than I started with.

And now as the month comes to close I end this sabbatical as November opens. The OLLI class allowed me to focus on the reason I decided to move off the grid. It was to be completely centered in each moment, to pay close attention to what I engage in, and let my thoughts, words, and actions to be in the now.

As this month ends  an interesting realization comes to mind.  A silence has permeated much of my days; not only a physical silence but a mental silence as well.  Stilling myself allows my emotions a greater expression.  Thoughts and physical activity distract from feelings and often cause feelings to be expressed in ways that may not be true to how or what I really feel.  I find that silence of mind and stillness of body helps deep feelings to manifest.

It brings me to a place of accepting what is; of not attempting to change how I feel but to be absolutely present in the moment.  Stepping off the grid afforded me this opportunity.

I find myself the witness to things that are happening in my life.  As I led the class I also watched myself and this process.  When people stop by or call me I see myself observing what is taking place.  My mind, which is usually active, has slowed, and I sense these experiences with my total being. I no longer just hear, experience, or see things; I am totally a part of all of this, but with the awareness of the witness, which allows me to not take these things personally.  There is a great freedom in this.

A friend calls, rambling on about things in life, and I find myself standing back, not reacting, but listening without judgement.  Another friend stops by, her life chaotic, and I can listen and let go knowing her thoughts and actions are just a play on her life stage.  Students in class ask questions and voice thoughts; all of which I listen and respond to without attaching to feelings about this discussion, this is just being here in the now.

The change I  sense is letting go of my opinion; not needing others to see things as I do and accepting that our perspectives are different and that's okay.  This has arrived gradually over a long time.  I feel my sabbatical has only sharpened my awareness of this impacting my life.  

A friend called the other day, caught up in life's events.  The focus of her conversation was on herself, her concerns, and her ideas, thoughts, and plans. At first I felt this as an intrusion, but as I stepped into my witness self I realized this was only life living itself.  She was not intentionally or purposefully intruding; she was unconsciously living out her life as it unfolded for her.  With this understanding I became the witness and just listened to her words.  My judgement was gone and I could listen, without forming an opinion, and allow her to speak her words.  As we talked I slowed my breath, let go of my irritation (my ego), and came completely into the moment.

This is something I have practiced before, but at the end of my sabbatical I have a sharpened sense of this awareness.  I came to this place through my conscious effort to slow down and to be totally present in each moment.  Monitoring my feelings helped me realize what was taking place in myself and to then step out of the box and be completely in the moment.  Being in the moment causes less stress on me; my mind, my body, and my spirit.  

Taking a specific timeout for me brings mindfulness to my practice.  Having specified October as the time to retreat into myself lets me look at and gain a deeper understanding of this practice.  In doing this I hopefully will remain more centered and present in each moment.

So as the autumn leaves fill my back yard, and as I prepare for shorter days, I will take these lessons into the reflection of winter.  

 

  

       

Going Home Again

We may not be able to go home again but as Maya Angelou says, “the truth is you never can leave home. You take it with you everywhere you go. It’s under your skin. It moves the tongue or slows it, colors the thinking, impedes upon the logic.”   

For me recalling home is a nostalgic remembrance.  As Maya points out it was a place that "I was terribly hurt and vastly loved".  At some point in my maturing I learned that I could, and did, live with these opposites, and they defined a strength I gleaned from my formative years.  At this point in my life I would not change it because it built the foundation of self.

There is a great relief to have made peace with the past.  Like many of my generation I spent time and money in therapy, and it was a very good investment.  It helped me understand, accept, and make peace with both the pain and the joy of my past.  Although these things are the foundation I build from they are not the complete definition of me.  

Home, the place that gave me the first definition of me, does move under my skin in the unconscious patters I carry with me.  In therapy I learned how to recognize what these patterns are and to accept or change them.  Home which was the place of my origin gradually morphed into the present of being here now. 

Home, the past, does color my thoughts, moves or slows my tongue, and influences my logic, but by understanding and realizing these effects I am able to change what I want to change and assimilate the rest into my being.   Accepting the reality of my life, both the terrible hurts and the vast love, allows me to integrate these experiences as a part of the whole of who I am now.  

For many years I would return to my hometown as I processed and worked through this assimilation.  There was a time when I needed the physical reminders of where I had lived to help me work through these memories. That time was not a nostalgic walk down memory lane, it was a part of my therapy to reconnect, remember, accept, and make peace with.

My growing up years were good. But like all others I was not a product of perfect parenting, and I had to come to peace with the terrible hurt and the vast love I experienced.  So I returned home to assimilate these feelings.  Walking the streets and ally ways, driving the roads, sitting on a bluff and watching the river, visiting with my family I began to integrate these parts of myself; to take steps toward becoming whole within me.

These were steps toward seeing the illusions life presents to me.  The acceptance that joy and sorrow exist simultaneously, and rather than canceling out each other they enhance my ability to experience both.  Accepting that home is a part of my history.  I can not escape that but I can come to term with all of it: the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly, and move on in my life.  It is, after all, my history and is the foundation of why and how I exist.

So as sister Maya says home is everywhere I go.  It is beneath my skin and colors my thoughts, beliefs, words, and actions.  I was raised around many elders.  They taught me the way and importance of story.  I learned through these gifts they shared with me.  As a young child, I am told, when with relatives I would beg for stories; not from books but of their lives.  I have always preferred "real" stories of life.  

As an adult I became a psychotherapist; my training began early, much earlier than college and graduate classes.  Great grandparents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and my parents were my first teachers that moved me toward the adult path my career took. For me the dye was cast from the first story that my elders shared with me.

I am pretty sure my very first teacher was Sara, my great grandmother.  Perhaps this was from a dream, or perhaps it is from a cellular memory embedded deep in my unconscious.  It is of Sara holding my infant head between her hands, placing her face close to mine, and willing her memories to me.  From that dream/memory I carry ancestral knowledge and wisdom that there is no logical explanation for my recalling or knowing.  I no longer question it; no longer ask if it were a dream or a memory; I accept it as a gift from life. Accepting this allows me to remain open to life's lessons, and to not question the medium or the teacher, but to view and learn the lessons. 

Hard or easy the lessons are only and always for my growth.  It became important to not analyze each lesson, but to just accept it as is, and learn what I need to learn.  When I accepted my first memory of Sara, and quit trying to explain it to myself I could then take the wisdom from this memory/dream and apply it to my life.  

Home is always here under my skin, impacting my thoughts, moving my tongue, and a part of the logic I bring to each situation in my life.  Sometimes I am hurt, other times I am vastly loved, but most time I walk the balance, the razor's edge, between these two feelings as I find my way home in each moment.  It's not the nostalgic home of my memories; it's the home of where I am now.

  

  

The Razor's Edge

Years ago I sat in a meeting of people who were planning a peace walk and encountered anger, rage, and in fighting.  I recall thinking "how interesting"; these folks are advocating for peace but they seem to be filled with anger, hatred and in-fighting toward each other; and I wondered how they could manifest peace out of so much rage?  I eventually came to the understanding that social activism can produce a feeling of righteousness and this feeling robs us of mindfulness.  If we need to be right more than we need to be free, peaceful, or what ever we are working for, we lose the focus of our original intentions.  We replace tyranny with our own brand of control.

We are walking the Razor's Edge and it is a precarious, but necessary, balance. I believe this balance is helped by our understanding that it is ego that needs to be right not our true essence, and this creates conflict between others egos that are seeking the same thing.  From this paradigm we are lost in a world of others who do not understand how right we think we are because we are relating through ego rather than being true to who we truly are.

This is the edge of perception where we are given the opportunity to practice discernment.  We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are. This is an important perception and distinction because our perception is a part of our ego, and ego ties us to the illusion of how we think we appear, not who we really are.  When this happens we become lost in our emotional reactivity.  As we learn how to allow others to be as they are, not as we want them to be, we stand at the threshold of opening to compassion.  In this moment the brittle facade of our ego is softened, our reactivity becomes pliable, and we let go of our attachments to how things should be and accept them as they are. 

If we want peace we must become peace; to experience joy we must practice joy; and to have abundance in life we must become abundant in all that we do. How we live directly affects who we are.

Realizing and remembering this is hard to do.  In the midst of despair it is easy to let that define who we are.  The despair is how we feel in a moment but it is not a definition of our true selves.  Neither are joy, sorrow, anger, or happiness, and to remember this keeps us from the emotional reactivity of identifying with these feelings as being the sum total of who we are.  

The razors edge is the path of experiencing all of our emotions without allowing any to completely identify who we are.  Learning to assimilate all of our emotions into our being without letting one or the other define us helps us find balance in life.  I find that when all things are in balance I can experience my emotions, give voice to them, and then detach from them.  My experiencing and acknowledging them allows me to let go.

To let go of anything we first must own it.  We can only let go of something that is ours; not in theory but in fact.  I understood this years ago when I sat in the meeting planning a peace walk.  The people there were in denial of their own inner rage, and because they had not owned their anger it was displayed in their relationships to others and in the energy that created this walk.  I realized that to successfully advocate for peace I had to manifest peace within me first.  Until I do this what I say I want becomes a shadow of what I don't want.  This then creates non mindfulness in life.  The Razor's Edge teaches me to dance with and through all aspects of myself, and to accept each part of me with unconditional love.     

Off The Grid - Creating Balance

Time to take a break and go off the grid for awhile.  It's time to pause, think, reassess, and perhaps recommit to my goals.  Off the grid means to me that I will spend less time on social media and more time in face to face interactions.  Less time reading about others lives and more time interacting with people.  

October is my favorite month.  The time when color explodes all around; the month I was born, and the month Roger and I married.  So this October I am going off the grid; not to become less involved with others, but to engage in a deeper, more meaningful conversation about life.

October heralds November when the brilliant colors fade as we begin the descent into winter's friendship. Through this blog I can share my thoughts with anyone who will read it.  Through Facebook, Twitter, and other such sites I am in touch with others thoughts, ideas, and creativity, and others can share this with me.  But it is time for more.....

Perhaps my venturing into "Through The Looking Glass And Down The Rabbit Hole" (post on 9/21) brought up the awareness of what I have been through and the need to stop, look, and assimilate my life's experience.  Maybe celebrating my 68th birthday in October adds to the my needing to take a sabbatical.  Whatever the reason it feels to be the correct time to do so.

To stop and watch the backyard begin to fill with leaves; to absorb the dying sun's warmth; to smell the advent of autumn; to hear the finale sounds of summer.  It is a good time to be off the grid and into life.  I have often paused in autumn to stop and listen.  In past years this has been for a day, a long weekend, or a vacation to slow down.  I use to measure time in seconds, minutes, hours, and days; I now measure it by the seasons, the sun's position as it travels across the sky, and how I respond to each season.  The Rumi tree in my backyard marks the passage of time.  From the newly budding branches, to the full green leaves, to the majesty of brilliant colors, and to  the stark beauty of bare branches on a cold day, time continues on in its unending cycle.

Going off the grid allows time to be a gentler, kinder presence in life.  I follow a blog where the writer has been off the grid for over 260 days as he learns the music of nature.  He is off the grid as he records images and sounds that teach him this exquisite language.  It takes courage to go off and to stay off the grid for so long; only posting every few days that he is still off the grid exploring this music and the number of days he has been there.   

I call my blog TEA AND OTHER RITUALS.  It began in May and was named to honor my winter Facebook posts of my morning ritual of tea.  I love the practice of this blog and will probably continue to post as a way of staying honest with me.  The practice of writing keeps me open; publishing my words keeps me honest; being honest keeps me humble.  All-in-all a good practice.

Perhaps, like stories from indigenous cultures, there is no beginning or end to this story because one blends into the other.  Being off the grid makes it easier to experience this circle of continuation, and to realize it is not the artificially imposed beginning and ending but it is the beauty of each moment seamlessly blending into the next.  When there is no starting point there is no ending place, only the flow of each moment.  The grid needs starting and stopping points.  Perhaps the person who is off the grid to learn the music of nature has understood that grid music is human made.  The notes, timing, key,  adagios, and fugues are created by human minds, but the music of nature is an organic way of hearing that will only be found off the grid. 

Like the impact of wolves being introduced back into Yellowstone National Park in 1995 has revitalized the ecosystem there, my going off the grid serves as a reminder that I must  keep me in balance with nature.  The grid is not an ecological system; it is human manufactured for our convenience, not for our good, but for our convenience.  Human interference seems to most always upset the balance of all things.  Our convenience is a term to be wary of as it often means causing imbalance in our ecosystems.   

Taking time, stepping off the grid, stopping to look and listen is the best way to restore my balance, and then to re-examine goals for myself.  I become more discerning of who and what I want to place my attention on.  It is a product of the grid to choose convenience rather than living in balance with nature and leaving only the slightest footprint of my being here.

Ideas and thoughts to consider; being off the grid allows me time to do this. So day after tomorrow I begin.  I'll keep you updated.  Perhaps another blog entitled "off the grid" will happen.....but whatever, I'll see you somewhere in October or beyond.....    

       

The True Teacher

“You cannot transmit wisdom or insight to someone else – the seed is already there. A good teacher is someone who touches that seed so it can wake up, sprout and grow.” Thich Nhat Hanh

When you meet The True Teacher it is a rare and exquisite gift.  You will know in your meeting of this person that you have been touched by wisdom.  Like the dandelion in this picture this teacher gives of her/his wisdom like the seeds of the dandelion's flower so they might be scattered were ever the wind blows.  This teacher has no desire to hold on to wisdom nor to claim the teachings for him/herself.  This teacher touches the beginnings of wisdom in each of us, and encourages us to wake up, sprout, and grow.

These teachers' lives are their classrooms.  Each day and moment they share wisdom that enlightens all of our lives.  A very few of these special teachers who touch and enhance my life are The Dali Lama, Pema Chodron, and Thich Nhat Hanh. But so many others have served as these true teachers who are unknown and not recognized.

For me there was Sara, my great grandmother; John, my professor in New Orleans, Dharmakeerti, my friend and teacher from India, and a host of others who pass through my life sharing their wisdom and then move on.  Whether they realize their wisdom impacts me or they don't that wisdom has changed me.  For this I am grateful.

These teachers blow through my life like the wind.  They move, change, and rearrange what I think are the boundaries and perimeters of me.  They blow in on the winds of change, embody this change, and then leave on the wind that brought them in.  I am left to sort out the edges and perimeters of my being.

Life has provided me with many opportunities to re-exam who I am.  It comes through major life changes, loss, death, and physical illness.  Though the events are different the response is to allow me to embrace change.

Sometimes these events hide in them the seeds of change of growth that are found within.  I went to New Orleans expecting to engage in a work related seminar (see post "The Teacher Appears When The Student Is Ready"), and encountered a life changing experience.  This was not my expectation but it became a reality that changed the direction of my life.  The teacher was life moving through the words and actions of the teacher; not the other way round.

My stroke and the time in the hospital was, again, life teaching me through the encounters with people who would shape and mold the direction of my life.  It was, as Dharmakeerti said, an ashram experience for me.  People go to an ashram to have meaningful inner experiences that are enhanced by those they encounter there.  Eight weeks in the hospital was that for me. Life is not particular about where its lessons are taught and it will work through any channel to teach.  So ashram, college campus in New Orleans, or a hospital, all are equal for life's lessons.  I only need open myself to the experience.  The experience, the wisdom, always seeks me; when I set out to capture it I am disappointed because the reality of the lesson exceeds the limits of my expectations.

My lesson for now is to ride the wind; wherever it may go.  I cast my fate to this wind:
"A month of nights, a year of days
Octobers drifting into Mays
I set my sail when the tide comes in
I just cast my fate to the wind"
  



   
   

Through The Looking Glass and Down he Rabbit Hole

 

At various times in my life I have felt that I have gone through the looking glass, down the rabbit hole, and find myself in a new and strange landscape.  Sometimes this new landscape has only been for a short time when I have a momentary epiphany, but at other times this is when major life changing events occur.  There are times when I have consciously decided to go into the looking glass, and others when life has made the decision for me.  My stroke took me into a world unknown to me; a world filled with epiphanies, realizations, and life changing events.  As with any life changing event I did not make a head/conscious decision to do this; it was made through my heart and marked a time of a huge change in my life.

      
So on the night of April 2, 2011 I stepped through the looking glass when I had a stroke, and arrived in the emergency room at the hospital.  A stroke is a brain injury; mine affected my right (dominate) side and was caused by a blood clot in my left, frontal brain.  I made it to the ER but not before the effect of the stroke impacted my ability to move my right side.  

A very frightening experience as I felt my right arm and leg become less and less responsive to my trying to move them.  Lying in the emergency room I was frightened, but I found my sense of humor was there and I began to see that even in this most scary moment I could laugh.  At some place deep in myself I understood that I would be okay; no matter what happened to my physical self I was fine.  And if I was to die I would be fine, and if I lived I would also be fine.  At some point in that journey to and through the ER I completely surrendered to life and death and let go.

I can't remember the exact moment I let go; I only know that while the ER staff worked with me, and before I was admitted to the hospital, I knew that I was okay....  I went through a battery of tests; I was prodded and poked; repeatedly ask to smile, push and pull with my right hand and foot, ask questions about my name, date of birth, the date, and where I was.  My sons had been notified of what was going on and I talked with them during my time in the ER.  Tad lives in Arizona and Jason in St Louis.  I ask them not to come until we had a clearer idea of what was happening, and how long I would be in the hospital.  I knew I was being well taken care of at that time, but when I got home I would need help.  They agreed.

I was admitted to the hospital's intermediate neurological unit in the very early morning of April 3rd.  I had gone through the looking glass, and now I was going down the rabbit hole, although I didn't know that then.  These are things I understand, now, in retrospect, but at the time I was grateful that I understood the process of being in the hospital, that I was able to think and articulate my thoughts, that my sense of humor was intact, and that the staff at the hospital gave me good care.

I experienced surrender at a very different level than I had ever before.  A concept that I understood in my mind suddenly shifted into my heart and gut and was to become a part of who I am.  Surrender before paled in comparison to that moment in the ER when I let go of my expectations and my fears and stood naked in the face of life and death.  I passed through the looking glass and realized that life's illusions would no longer serve me.  This awareness lead me to the rabbit hole where I needed to surrender and fall into it. I understood that I would do this by being present in the moment; the past was done and there is no changing that; the future has not happened so anticipating it only causes anxiety; the present is the only place I have control and this is where I remain focused.

There are those who believe that going down the rabbit hole you will only lose control and will face great upheaval in life.  I know this is true, but upheaval leads to change, and change, when approached in a positive way, will lead to personal growth.  I had no choice about entering the rabbit hole, but I did have choice about how I responded to this life change.  I could be reactive which comes from not being in the moment, or I could be proactive and be totally in each moment.  Those first days on the neuro unit I became proactive for me.  I asked questions and became interactive in my medical care and treatment.  I have since realized that I had unconsciously made the choice to become my own advocate and to be strong for me,

I was in a foreign place; I didn't speak the medical language; the sights, sounds, and smells were strange to me; the people were efficient, friendly; life was going on, and I knew I had to get on board.  Inside the rabbit hole I saw how strange things were compared to my former life, and I had to learn to communicate with things as how they were; not how they use to be. 

My body was weakened by my stroke but my clarity of thinking was quickly returning.  On the sixth day in the hospital I was moved to the rehab unit where I began to navigate my journey through this rabbit hole.  As I made the journey from the neuro floor to rehab unit I was reminded to remain positive and proactive in my situation. This was a situation that only I could change, and that would come by my being completely in the now.

Be here now was a mantra that I repeated to myself many times each day as I worked on becoming stronger, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  My good friend and teacher, Dharmakeerti, suggested I look at this experience and my stay in the hospital as an experience of being in an ashram; it would be a time when I faced fears and came to an understanding and realization of the illusions that were still defining me.  The only way I would do this, she told me, was to surrender to life.  For the next eight weeks this became my guiding principle; to be here now and to surrender.  

Surrender did not mean giving up or abdicating my power; it meant knowing myself and standing firmly in the center of my being.  When I lost that center I experienced fear and uncertainty, when I was at that center I knew that all was well and I felt calm and centered.  I had to stand my ground with the medical establishment I had to now deal with; I had to research medications and decide what I was willing to take and what I wouldn't take.  From pills to procedures I became my own advocate for my health and well-being.

I was fortunate to have good friends who knew me well and who could and did support my choices.  The stronger I became in my own advocacy the more willing the medical staff on the rehab floor became a part of my advocate system .  Because I expressed my needs they tried to meet what I requested. In both words and actions I found this medical staff was there to listen and help me.

I realized that I had to propel me into the flames of this rehab/ashram experience. I learned that by surrendering to my highest good and my highest self I found peace in whatever I did. This taught me that that by being  proactive and advocate for myself from my highest awareness allowed me the experience of being heard, understood, and respected.  Of course not everyone I spoke with or worked with agreed with me, but they always respected me, and this allowed for better working relationships.

    
The hospital and rehab unit became the ashram for me.  The stroke propelled me into this unique place and situation.  My realization in the ER that I was fine; if I lived or if I died I realized I would be okay.  I surrendered to the path my life was taking and in doing that I learned that I was and am always okay.  I went through the looking glass and down the rabbit hole and realized that I am fine.   Why?  Because I remembered to just let go, surrender, and realize that life lives itself; I need only become a part of its flow.