There is an Aesop\u2019s Fable called \u201cThe\u00a0River and the Leaf\u201d:<\/p>\n
A small leaf, caught in the current\u00a0of a mighty river, didn\u2019t want to go in the direction that the water was\u00a0flowing. The leaf desperately tried to fight against it, clinging to rocks and\u00a0branches along the way. It struggled fiercely, fearing being swept away, but the river, unyielding, carried it further and further downstream. Eventually,\u00a0exhausted from resistance, the leaf simply relaxed and allowed the current to\u00a0guide it. As it floated freely, it realized the beauty of the journey and the
peace that came with surrendering.<\/p>\n
In my life, I\u2019ve found two ways to\u00a0look at surrender. There\u2019s the \u201cSurrender Dorothy\u201d kind of way where the wicked\u00a0witch tries to get her to give up and stop resisting her authority. And then\u00a0there\u2019s the kind of surrender that\u2019s about letting go, putting down the sword
and detaching from the outcome.<\/p>\n
I was distraught about the outcome\u00a0of our recent election. I wasn\u2019t alone. Many of us couldn\u2019t imagine how it had\u00a0happened. Or why. Surely it was a mistake. Was it rigged? What could we do to\u00a0make it right? There had to be a way to change things. I agonized over it. I
got angry. I got depressed. I got anxious. I got fearful. I endured these\u00a0feelings for days, spiraling up and down the roller coaster. I simply refused\u00a0to accept what had happened and it was causing me a lot of suffering.<\/p>\n
A week or so later, I was still moaning\u00a0about the way things had turned out when a wise friend said, \u201cI don\u2019t like it\u00a0any more than you do. I hate it. But you have to find a way to surrender or it\u2019ll\u00a0drive you crazy. If it\u2019s right or wrong, it doesn\u2019t matter. How it happened
doesn\u2019t matter. Why it happened doesn\u2019t matter. It happened and you have to\u00a0find a way to deal with it, whether you like it or not. You can surrender to\u00a0what is or you can fight against it and let it ruin your day, your peace of\u00a0mind and your life, which by the way, is a very good life.\u201d<\/p>\n
The idea of letting go of my\u00a0outrage and disappointment felt like I was abandoning my beliefs. If I accepted\u00a0what had happened, it felt like the other side had won. But I considered what\u00a0my friend had told me. I didn\u2019t have to feel good about it. I didn\u2019t have to like\u00a0it. But beating my head against a brick wall didn\u2019t give me anything but a
headache.<\/p>\n
I was on a spiritual retreat some\u00a0years ago when I had a vision of myself in full battle armor with a sword in my\u00a0hand. I was holding in attack mode when I heard a voice say, \u201cPut down the\u00a0sword and take off the armor. You\u2019ve fought your way through decades of your
life. It\u2019s time to stop. Let go and breathe, try to accept the unacceptable and\u00a0your pain will lighten up. Then you can relax into the spiritual path that has\u00a0never failed you.\u201d<\/p>\n
It’s hard to embrace uncertainty\u00a0and groundlessness when everything in you is crying out to find safety and solid\u00a0ground. To have things go a certain way. But it\u2019s important to become a witness
to your life, not a victim. When you manage to focus on something other than\u00a0your own worries and fears, anxiety lifts and blows away on the wind. Eastern\u00a0philosophy teaches us that when we can\u2019t control a situation, we can change our\u00a0attitude toward it. Again, that doesn\u2019t mean you have to like something. It\u2019s\u00a0about giving up trying to control something that you can\u2019t control. Being out\u00a0of control scares us. It feels dangerous. But if we can find a way to face it\u00a0and tolerate it, we can find some peace. I don\u2019t call myself a Buddhist in the\u00a0formal sense but I\u2019m empowered by Tibetan Buddhist precepts. They\u2019ve taught me\u00a0that the more we tighten our fists, the more pain and frustration we\u2019ll have.\u00a0The more we relax our fists and open our fingers, the more ease we\u2019ll have in\u00a0our lives.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I was editing a book about the\u00a0movie business with a dear friend, Lynda, who died recently. She was an uber\u00a0successful Hollywood producer, she\u2019d come up in a man\u2019s world, and she knew a lot about control. She titled one of her chapters, \u201cRide the Horse on the
Direction It\u2019s Going.\u201d She wasn\u2019t talking about giving up and galloping away.\u00a0She was talking about doing your work without grasping at straws or fighting\u00a0against the tides.<\/p>\n
I learned to take control of my\u00a0life at a very young age because I had to. When I left home at fourteen to\u00a0pursue my dream of becoming a professional ballerina, I had to take good care\u00a0of myself and being in control was about survival. I created a schedule that\u00a0helped me control my life. Washing leotards and tights every night and sewing
ribbons on my pointe shoes. Making sure I ate and doing homework by myself. Showing\u00a0up at 9 o\u2019clock every morning for ballet class. I learned to tight-fist my way\u00a0through life, taking control of things that would be hard for any fourteen year\u00a0old to do. It was necessary back then but as I get older, trying to control my\u00a0life has become a bad habit. I recognize it and I work with it and that\u2019s the most\u00a0that any of us can do.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There is an Aesop\u2019s Fable called \u201cThe\u00a0River and the Leaf\u201d: A small leaf, caught in the current\u00a0of a mighty river, didn\u2019t want to go in the direction that the water was\u00a0flowing. The leaf desperately tried to fight against it, clinging to rocks and\u00a0branches along the way. It struggled fiercely, fearing being swept away, but the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":2610,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2611","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2611","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/6"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2611"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2611\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2612,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2611\/revisions\/2612"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2610"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2611"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2611"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2611"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}