Surrender

A meditation

Life squeezed and so I squeezed back.

Every muscle tensed.

Trying to harden myself against the hard times.

Life squeezed and so I held my breath.

Closing tight my mouth.

Trapping in the oxygen.

As if it could sustain me forever.

But it slowly sank into my cells, leaving me panting.

Exhausted. Breathless. Gasping.

With my last ounce of strength I asked God,

“Please, help me. I’m not strong enough.”

And God unclenched my fists.

Pulled each tense finger from its tortured grip around nothing.

God pushed down on my shoulders until they fell away from my ears

Until I stood straight. Tall. Relaxed. Upright.

And then I was strong enough.

Not to keep out the hardness of life.

But to let it pass through me.

Like water.

The tighter I ball myself up, the smaller and heavier I become.

Sinking, sinking, sinking.

A hard, dense mass.

But the more I stretch out my limbs,

The more I float.

Sleep peacefully amidst the chaos.

Because I don’t try to hold myself

I allow myself to be held

Surrendered

Not because I gave up

But because I stopped resisting

Said, “Yes, this is happening.”

What I least want but perhaps most need

Here it is

Here I am

And here is my choice to fight —

To exhaust myself against the unyielding hardness of life —

Or to soften,

And float through in the cracks.