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Many times in our lives we are called to completely surrender,  to acknowledge the vast power of the universe and recognize that we are but specks of dust floating about in the currents of space and time.  Resistance is futile. 

Some things are just completely out of our hands.  No matter how hard we fight to get something just the way we want it, there are times when we are bitch slapped by the universe and reminded that we aren't actually in control and are merely just along for the ride.

There is a card for this in the tarot.  It is The Moon card and it is likened to being on a boat without a paddle on a terrifying river at night.  You have no control over the situation and your only job is to hang on, try to survive and completely surrender to the experience while it transforms you.

I find myself today typing this article on a laptop that is barely more than a glorified typewriter.  I spent the past few days backing up files onto Dropbox, or so I thought, only to discover that as files were transferred they were deleted from the computer while simultaneously deleting themselves from the cloud as well.  I’m frustratingly searching for old files, cherished photos, writings and memories, only to discover that they too have been wiped from my computer’s memory and history itself.

I want to cry.  I want to break things.  I am frustrated.   But there isn’t a damn thing I can do right now.

This is a relatively small surrender.  Sure, a big chunk of my life and body of work has been wiped off the face of the planet but this is nothing compared to losing a loved one or finding out you have a terminal illness.

This is just a small reminder that I am not really in control and sometimes the more I try to control and prepare for a situation, the less control I really have.

I've had many instances in my life where surrendering was necessary but there was one particular instance that may have saved my life.

At 17 years old, without any appropriate preparation, I decided that I would like to go inner-tubing on the Sandy River in Troutdale, OR.  I hitchhiked to the nearest tire store to buy an inner tube (yes, an actual tire inner tube).  

I happened to get picked up by a friend from school and his younger sister.  It turns out they wanted to go inner-tubing too so we all bought tubes and drove to Oxbow Park to drop in.  

The extent of my preparation included sunscreen and a thermos filled with vodka, kahluha and half & half.  The dude would have been proud.  

We entered the water in the clothes we had on our backs.  My friends were both wearing combat boots and were slightly jealous of my flip-flops that I wielded in each hand and used as paddles to navigate through the gentle water.

Swimming and floating down the river was especially wonderful on this hot summer day.  I had done it many times before and felt rather joyful and carefree about the whole experience.  It seemed that the day had really come together.

The water was pretty shallow where two currents came together and rushed toward a tree that was overhanging the river with a large branch hanging directly in the water.  My companions were able to stand up and walk to the shore to bypass the fallen tree but since I was barefoot I was unable to stand up in the current without busting my toes on the rocks.  

I stood up several times only to be knocked back onto the inner tube.  

My impact with the large tree limb was inevitable so I put my feet out ahead of me and caught them on the branch.  I steadied myself for a brief moment before attempting to push off to the side of the tree.  But the current had other plans for me and I slammed face first into the tree.

I was knocked from the tube and the shallow waters suddenly became very deep with two separate currents working against each other, the strongest current pinning me to the floor of the riverbed. I thought my instinct might have been to struggle, to fight the current, to swim as frantically to the surface as possible but that’s not at all what happened.

I surrendered to the experience.  I didn’t fight the current but instead conserved my energy.  I held my breath and covered my head.  I curled into a little ball that bounced along the river’s bottom until she spat me up nearly a quarter mile from where I went under.

My friends were dumfounded to find me so far away.  They thought for a moment that I had surely drowned.  Other onlookers were equally baffled.  I had blood streaming down my face as I had broken my nose from my arboreal impact.

It is quite possible that I might have died had I not surrendered to that experience in that moment. And I often think of that lesson when I want to tighten my grip on my carefully scripted reality and shake my fist at the universe for daring to diverge from my plot line.  But sometimes you just have to take one on the chin.  

xoxo,
Amanda