My niece, who just turned two, has two pet-words that she uses all the time. Any guesses as to what they are?

“That’s MINE.”

This led me to thinking that so many of our troubles become nascent in possessive pronouns. Even the very language we learn is indicative of the profound false illusion we all live in: that we have unlimited, unbound control over our lives. Like other members of the animal kingdom, we live our entire lives defending—consistently preoccupied with defending encroachment from others. As children, we start guarding OUR toys and OUR things. As teenagers, we begin to guard OUR friends and OUR partners. As adults, we begin to guard OUR careers and OUR family. 

The underlying misconception to that thought process is that nothing is truly “ours.” We are not even truly ours, as each and every one of us will cease to exist. The root of human suffering arises when we feel that our lovers, and friends are OURS. Our view towards them becomes that of possession. We almost begin to believe that they belong to us. It is no surprise, therefore, that we become profoundly wounded when unfortunate events lead to our best friends betraying us, our boyfriends cheating on us, our careers falling through. In so many ways, we all experience the same primordial emotion: Loss; it’s as if we win the lottery one day and find ourselves bankrupt the next. The intensity of how severely we “hurt” is directly correlated with how much we identify with the false illusion of life belonging to us.

Some of us break. We shatter; every little ounce of strength within us seems to evaporate away. There’s no shame in admitting this. I have been there. In fact, I, still, find myself back there often. We are the ones who worry too much, stress ourselves into ulcerated infernos; we are the “control-freaks.” 

Nothing is permanently ours. That friend, that boyfriend, your favorite shirt, your health–every single thing is a gift that must not be taken for granted. 

I mean, how mystifying are human beings? We work assiduously to find cures to the most deadly diseases of our time, however, we cannot seem to accept such a simple concept. We have trouble comprehending that our family, our friends, our boyfriends, our clothes, our houses, our wealth, our children, our pets–“our” everything is not ours. Each of those things can be taken away in a moment. In fact, this very LIFE is not ours. It is an opportunity–for some perceivers a curse, and for others a gift. 

Each time something or someone is taken from you, you may fall apart. But honey, “falling apart” is a magical and beautiful blessing. It is a reminder from the universe, God, or whichever “higher power” you confide in. It is a message that serves to redirect your attention back towards the beautifully frustrating truth: nothing is yours forever. Things are not going to go the way you plan. The people in your life are not yours to keep. They never were. They never will be. For godsake, you’re not even yours. 

This brings me to back to the title of this post: surrender. In no ways does surrender mean relinquishing all control of our lives. If this was the case, criminals would not be held accountable for their actions. Instead, “surrender” means to turn our attention to the things we can control, and begin to let go of the rest. It seems as if some of the only things we possess control over are deep within the inner cores of our mind and heart. We can only manage the internal environment created by our thoughts, feelings, and actions. As for rest, I suppose, we surrender. 

I recently discovered an old letter I had written to God in my time of distress; I wanted to share it. I know that many of you reading this may believe in different higher powers, or may simply believe in the governing laws of the universe. Consequently, I ask of you to read the proceeding letter with an open mind and an open heart, as I truly and wholeheartedly believe that every person, regardless of their faith, can relate to it. 

Dear Universe/God, 

I am back, once more, your wounded soldier. I am tired of fighting, blinded, all for a nonexistent cause—a cause that ceases to exist. I am struggling so hard towards an impermanent goal…in an even more impermanent world–one that will likewise cease to exist. The breeze of realizations has kissed my face once more. In actuality, nothing, not one thing that I lovingly call my “prized possession” truly belongs to me. Not the soothing words of authors that grant wings to my lifeless dreams, nor the light parental touch on the forehead that sends my broken soul to its plight, or those tender kisses gifted by a true love’s mouth; nothing; nothing is mine. And now I see. My bleeding heart, my fallen soul have gifted me with eyes to see, to comprehend, to know that each momentary breath is not mine, and whenever you so please, the chains of death can ensnare me and then, even I, so “powerful” of a being, will cease to exist. I will go, soaring back, like that destined loose leaf traveling back up to the majestic tree of life that Abraham,Jesus, Moses, Mohammad (pbuh), Gandhi, Mother Tereasa, Buddha and other enlightened beings descended from.

I am a tired artist; tired of molding, drawing, shaping, sculpting, and painting this masterpiece called life. I am running out of colors, running out of designs, running out of direction—i’m fatigued and why? Because I am fighting my own brush; each dainty stroke that tries to coat over the endless white paper, I consciously stop. Each beautiful stroke  is willed by you, Magnificent One; one that may transform this ordinary sheet of nothingness into a work of art even more valued than de Vinci’s La Gioconda. I stand here, your wounded soldier, tired; tired of fighting the extraordinariness destined for me; tired of denying the greatness that was bestowed upon my ancestors, tired of fighting blindly for my foolish cause, for my foolish stubbornness, for my foolish desires. 

So here I am, my own adversary, fallen to my knees, in tears, pressed into this lonely corner of your world. Here I am, once more, suppliant, begging, pleading, beseeching one glance from you. Just one so that I may be rescued from the boat of life that I have mistakenly commenced to sink. Now, that I see no beginning and seek no end, please take hold of my paintbrush, take hold of my hand and help me paint the extraordinary masterpiece I was destined to create. Please carry me till I am strong enough to walk, please place the fragile, glass pieces of my splintered being together. Oh higher power! Please respond to my piercing cries! Here I am, your wounded solider, calling out to you. I have not yet become a “fallen soldier”, only wounded, because till this moment in life, You have not let me fall. Grant me with wings so that my soul may sour once again.                                                                                                                            

                                                                                                         Your wounded soldier 

Surrender. It is not a choice for the weak-hearted.

Surrender is not a passive, hopeless choice. It is not in anyway “settling” for less. On the contrary, “to surrender” is one of the most ACTIVE and  magnamonious choices any person can make. For it is the act of surrender that allows for our internal energy to become aligned with the magical, and majestic ways of the universe. It is in surrender, that we choose to stop expending nervous, fearful energy towards external circumstances that lay outside of our control. 

Active surrender restrains us from barking orders at life, and instead, begin to gently question it. “What is it that YOU, the universe, want from me today?” And sometimes, the only answer, we may get is: “to breathe” or “to be.” I’m starting to believe that, not only are those perfectly acceptable answers, but that they are also the best ones. But that will be the topic for another blog.

For now, I’d like to end with this compelling thought by Nisargadatta Maharaj