Surrender

I am noticing my propensity to create habits. When I have a lovely day, a part of me attempts to schedule it as a weekly event. “Okay, Wednesday will be my indulgent writing day.” I practice in meditation to free myself from self-imposed constriction only to enter my day of scheduled projects, dietary restriction and timed appointments.

My journals are full of attempts to create the perfect schedule. How do I fit all the things I should do into a single day with time left over for pleasure? After forty+ years of journaling, I still haven’t figured it out. I intended to begin the new year with a strict schedule. I was going to “buckle down,” get up earlier, meditate and exercise each morning, then sip my health drink as I worked on my new book. After lunch I would put in a couple more hours at my desk before rewarding myself with two hours at my sewing machine creating blocks for a queen-size bed quilt.

Life had other plans. I say “life” but I could say “the universe,” or “God/dess” or “fate,” or whatever other euphemism to describe the mysterious, uncontrollable force that delivers the unexpected and alters the course of our lives.

My course shift began right after Christmas as I was cleaning and organizing my writing space in preparation for a very Saturnian new year. I smashed my foot into the hardwood leg of my ottoman and broke my toe. The pain was sudden and intense.

My usual reaction is vocal, followed by suffering, enhanced with self-recrimination which continues long after the pain has subsided. But the night before, I read in Michael Singer’s book, The Untethered Soul, that transformation occurs when we completely feel our pain. He was referring to psychic pain, but I chose to apply it to my toe. I sat down, closed my eyes and dove into the pain. It was a vortex, like a black hole that sucked me deeper into its pure darkness. I felt every subatomic particle of that pain until it disappeared.

The amazing thing was that over the two-month recovery period, I felt no pain. My toe was tender enough, however, to curtail my housecleaning. I found myself on the couch, applying ice packs, staring at the total chaos I had created: piles of books, fabrics, saleable doo-dads.

As my toe healed, my back began to complain of weeks of limping and cane use. Then my neck joined in. I finally surrendered, and after three months of struggling to get back to my original plan, I let go. “Okay, Universe, I give up. I quit. If you want something from me, call.” The very next morning in meditation, an angel whispered, “Why don’t you start a blog?”

While Saturn was trying to organize my life, Neptune was dissolving those plans, like waves vanishing footprints in the sand. Neptune saw a bigger picture and was urging surrender. Once I started listening to that “still, small voice” in my depths, I came to realize that this was the perfect plan for me. Nothing needed to change. This is what I have done my whole adult life – read books, take classes, listen to lectures, now podcasts. I process copious amounts of information, separate the flecks of gold from the endless grains of sand, and share it with family and friends. Why not share it with a wider audience?

My daughter Michelle has created this beautiful website for me. Like her mother, she is a Virgo. She has a fine eye for detail, a great sense of aesthetic organization and the know-how to pull it off.

Thank you, Michelle, from the bottom of my heart.

A note about the astrological references. It is my intention to introduce you to the magical symbolic language of astrology. I started studying in 1977 and continue to read new books, take classes and get readings from other astrologers. There is no end to this fascinating and evolving subject. The sky keeps revealing new archetypes informing our collective mind. With all the recent discoveries in the Kuyper Belt, for instance, our vocabulary is growing, sparking new research and wonder. I envision a day when our children will speak astrology with the same fluency as their native tongues.