The Grace of Surrender

I remember first being introduced to meditation in my 20s, and for some reason, in spite of an often restless mind, I also had a strong sense that I was somehow coming home. As I persevered with my initial clumsiness, I found myself looking forward to the ceremony of sitting, allowing my restlessness to soften, and wait. What I couldn’t name at the time was the experience of Presence which then enfolded me, and drew me back in expectation for the next sitting. I also didn’t recognise at that time the seeds of self-kindness which were being sown.


Twenty years later, I look back at my younger self, and have to admire the humble innocence of a young adult finding her own way in life. I look back amazed at the disciplined practice I enjoyed then. I can still be a little restless. I suppose I am also older and hopefully a little wiser. Surrender comes easier now. Life has brought many joys and storms in the intervening years, each one cracking open the heart ever wider. Life has shown I am not in control of the vast majority of events unfolding in my life. Life has also shown that a force of gentleness and providence was with me throughout these years. The lives of my family were held and a pull towards truth, simplicity and trust was moving through us.


I realised some years ago that it was no longer possible to limit my daily practice to one or two periods of meditation, or regretfully none at all on occasion. I needed more help in the in-between times. I found I needed to reconcile the remainder of my day with the peace and serenity I felt during meditation. Slowly I noticed a inner pull towards a more contemplative way of living, the turning and surrender of each moment into prayer and devotion. This practice became a welcome anchor at difficult moments, and a celebration at times of breakthrough.

I still struggle with the discipline needed to sit in meditation and Centering Prayer. I welcome but no longer cling to the consolations which can come. I don’t always feel the strength of Presence which I felt in my younger years. I now seek to simply rest in Silence, rather than seeking a felt experience of Presence.

Though it may go against our nature, the act of surrendering is Nature itself. One moment and one season surrender into the next. The cycles of life surrender into each other. Birds and animals know this instinctively. They are led by inner rhythms dictated by Nature. We also see this graceful process unfolding in many people. They grow in wisdom and acceptance as they get older, and are often recognised by their strong sense of humour about Life's ups and downs. Surrender has made them humble and adaptable. They have witnessed many people making their final surrender from this life. They know that Life is to be lived, enjoyed and revered, moment by moment.

To welcome and to let go is one of the most radically loving, faith-filled gestures we can make in each moment of each day. It is an open-hearted embrace of all that is in ourselves and in the world.

Mary Mrozowski, Contemplative Outreach Founder

Pause For A Moment

A quiet day's pause 

Time slows to an easy pace

Nature is basking

Hurry finds no hit today

Contentedness arises

How lovely to find a long quiet day stretching out ahead, with no appointments, no deadlines, and nothing at all to be achieved. It is with a grateful heart that I find one, today.

Everyone needs a moment to immerse themselves in their own natural way. It is my constant prayer that my outside world becomes a more natural rhythm for me. In other words, it is my prayer that those internal disharmonies soften even more so that the external world then reflects this ease and harmony. Much energy is pulled from within when we find ourselves in an unnatural rhythm. It is not possible to sustain it for very long, without feeling exhausted and strained. The prayer is that we can adapt and move seamlessly from one role to the next, whatever the context, all the while following an internal natural dial. I don't think we were even meant to be anything other than this.

Our natural rhythm may be a quiet one for some, or filled with company for others. Either way, it's best to find our own balance. Some need a burst of spontaneity, of fun and laughter. Some need that elusive alone-time, others want to read, to write, to go for that long walk, to play music, to watch a movie. A nap, anyone? Do we even know how tired we actually are? Whether we have just a few precious hours, or the whole day, or joy of joys, a few days, make it a retreat for your heart, for the deep aches of the inmost self. Get re-attuned to your natural rhythm.

Enjoy these accidental mini holidays, whenever they come along. Don't fill them with emails, phone calls, TV, chores, or social media. Everything can wait. This is an outstanding opportunity to spend the day listening and seeing, rather than planning and doing. This is a chance to receive the day as it unfolds.

Intuition tells us when to move on, where to go, and what to do or say next. By anchoring our attention on what surrounds us - listening to the sounds, seeing the activity in nature, following our intuition - we are in prayer. By being present to the Presence, we strengthen our ability to lead a contented blessed life, within the natural rhythm of Life, whatever our role.

This is a sacred discipline.

Every moment and every event of every man's life on earth plants something in his soul.

Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation

Recovery

A host of golden daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed - and gazed - but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth, I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud. c. 1804.

At peak times of activity, work deadlines, family challenges and demands, we can often be left with a longing for rest time - a time to recover. It connects me too with the recovery time needed after a period of illness. There is often a blessing in the fatigue and weakness which we can encounter at these times. We have endured a period of hardship, and find ourselves empty and exhausted. 

Our strength and direction have momentarily left us. We don't feel able for much activity, if any, and even conversation can be demanding. At times of illness, we may have to hand ourselves and our well-being over to teams of doctors and specialists, who schedule us for tests, for diagnosis, and treatment. We are cared for by nurses or family members, who encourage us to eat something. 

In spite of it all, once pain is not excessive, we can be quite content in this momentary time of weakness. It keeps ambition and restlessness at bay - they too receive little energy or focus from us. That, in itself, is a great balm for the mind and body. We pace ourselves, getting a little exercise, eating a little wholesome food, snoozing, having a little read, a little conversation, and another snooze. Bit by bit, we continue to strengthen.

Recovery is a gentle time - time to rest, to be quiet, to let the inner rhythm dictate the pace. Time to admire the daffodils, the nesting birds, to feel the heat of the sun on our face, on our back. Time to see what nature is doing - it constantly gives us clues as to what we should be doing, or not doing, and the natural pace of the season. It is time to retreat, to go inwards and replenish. To go back to Source, and soothe the emptiness and confusion. It is a sacred time. Every now and again, it's good to recover. To take stock of our lives and our direction. To recover our balance, our rhythm, our natural way. To recover ourselves. 

To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects ... is to succumb to the violence of our times.

Thomas Merton

Every season moves onto the next. We will move forward again soon enough.