Let it all fall into place

Fallen into fall, after all, or something! The turning, vibrant, dropping leaves on my recent East Coast visit had me feeling more of an air of surrender, and thinking about the grandness of allowing. Of how by allowing things to be, to fall as they may, things fall into place. That releasing my grip of control—and control comes from fear—allows things to be as they’re meant to be. And what results has repeatedly shown me, and continues to show me, is better than I ever could have imagined, anything that I could have controlled into creation.

Let go, and let it all fall into place. The trees know. And they look so beautiful doing it, too.

Let it all fall away

I’ve realized recently that I don’t care about a lot of things. Like things I know don’t matter, but I was still giving thought, energy and attention to. (All of which would be much better invested elsewhere, or even nowhere, in nothing). Things like ruminating on whether xyz was the right choice when I know it makes no difference now because we’re in the now. Or things that don’t really matter much because they actually don’t align with my values or interests or what I want I want to be part of or have be part of me.

I was on the East Coast recently and the leaves were “peaking;” a beautiful decay and array of falling colors, and that felt like a symbolic little invitation to just let things fall that I don’t need, that I don’t care about much, after all. Let them fall away and be absorbed into the earth and make way for new growth. And letting them go may make me feel bare for a little bit, but that’s the only way to make space for what’s coming next. And it’s kind of nice to just be out there in this new way, anyway, feeling it all, open, ready for whatever.

Flexibility is strength

I love stretching. Love, love stretching. When I do it, I can feel myself getting taller, stronger, longer; the yin of recovery to the yang of lifting, or running hard. I feel everything connecting, the loop closing, and my body and self becoming more open.

I remember learning something in gym class at some point when I was younger about the different types of physical fitness, about the picture of composite strength, and learning that conditioning aspects like balance and flexibility are, also, strength. Not just displays of brute force. Huh, I thought. I liked that. I thought about it, and I internalized it in a great way. In stretching, I feel myself getting stronger.

I remember being younger and seeing a bridge sway, or some tall pole, maybe both, whatever it was, and my engineer father explaining that this had to happen, from a physics standpoint, for the structure to remain—not just strong, but remain there at all. How unexpected. It was the opposite of what I felt like should be happening, and it was what needed to be happening.

Flexibility in flow, flexibility in surrender, flexibility in bending to see a new perspective, in stretching out of a comfort zone, in reaching for change.

Flexibility is strength. I’m more flexible than I’ve ever been, in a lot of ways, and I’m proud of that. Because I stretch every day, in some way, and I’ve felt the change. I feel stronger than I’ve ever been.

On surrender

Today at 11:11am Los Angeles time, my friend texted me. It was 1:11pm Chicago time, where she now lives, and we’ve developed this habit of texting each other when we see the times align across our time zones, a little shared moment of numbers magic, even if contrived, which reminds us of our friendship, and our own magic.

Today, I told her that I’d had a harder morning, and took some time for a good cry (emotional sweat). She encouraged me to let it out (“No shame; it only makes us stronger.”) and shared that her current personal focus is getting comfortable with asking for help, and letting go of things. Only a few minutes later, she sent me a text with “Just saw this” and a photo of a calendar page and quote.

If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it. -Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon

I’m currently reading The Surrender Experiment: by Michael Singer, which is his autobiography. Surrender is something we talk about often in Vedic meditation (like “surrendering preferences”) and I’ve found it to be a freeing, and expansive concept. As Singer describes it:

What would happen if we respected the flow of life and used our free will to participate in what’s unfolding, instead of fighting it? What would be the quality of the life that unfolds? Would it just be random events with no order or meaning, or would the same perfection of order and meaning that manifests in the rest of the universe manifest in the everyday life around us?

In practice, Singer describes it as:

The practice of surrender was actually done in two, very distinct steps: First, you let go of the personal reactions of like and dislike that form inside your mind and heart; and second, with the resultant sense of clarity, you simply look to see what is being asked of you by the situation unfolding in front of you.

I think of it often as trying to swim upstream—a cling, reach, for what was, what we know—as opposed to flowing with the current, surrendering to be led downstream to a place that may be, probably is, so great, that we can’t even envision it because we’ve never even been to it! Also, it makes the process, the journey, the trip, so very much more easeful and enjoyable. And that part, I think, is just is important. Maybe most important. Life is a constant flow, constant change.

To surrender.

For AshRising, Ashley angel! To floating through, and surrendering to, life and all its magic together

Do one less thing

Sometimes I think life is a rotation between the two sides of the same advice coin, a back-and-forth flip that is sometimes quick, like both in one day, and, other times, we’re on the same side for some time. Before, it was Do this one thing. Right now, it’s: Do one less thing.

Do one less thing, make one less plan, make one choice less, say one less thing, deliberate one time less. There’s a peace that comes in granting that, I’ve found. A space for settling, and for something to naturally shift.

The more I let go, the more I let grow

“That’s it; that’s the post,” as the internet and those on it often say. Let go; let grow.

I’ve noticed that the more I continue to let go—even a little, even little by little, sometimes in a big, white-flag moment of surrender—of expectation, of control, of need, of attachment to outcome, of urgency, of not-enoughness, of perfection, the more I myself grow, the more I create a welcoming space for others to grow around me, and the more I allow for the organic development of whatever the moment is that I am in. And once I do it, it often feels like such exhilaration. Like sending a pass into the beyond, like jumping into the water below, like throwing up my hands on a ride.

Like a friend who loves to tend succulents said to me back when we were both managers, about caring for succulents, about management, about life: “The less you try to control and do, the better.”

So, I’m letting this post go, just as it is, and letting this writing and space grow, into whatever it is.

Letting go, letting grow.

Posted in inspiration of sharing this with a colleague-turned-friend, Hanna. 💐