I feel vulnerable writing this post because the issue is alive in me. I haven’t moved past it. I can’t tie it up in a neat bow. I’m sharing though because this is the only topic that came to mind to write about, and also I know there are other people who feel the way I do. I’m hopeful my experience will help.
I am deeply unsettled by the murder of Nia Wilson from a few weeks ago. It speaks to one of my worst fears – a random act of violence. (I should mention here police don’t know for sure it was random. It could have been racially motivated but the murderer didn’t say one word to her or her sisters before attacking. Also, women of color experience higher rates of this kind of violence because the consequences are lower.) As for me, instead of viewing strangers as friends I haven’t met yet, I view strangers as people who mean me harm. In public I am constantly on guard. And considering Nia was murdered while at a BART station that I frequent, I’m more fearful than usual.
A sweet picture that I hope conveys my sentiments. Photo by Ravi Roshan on Unsplash
My therapist suggested I acknowledge the fear and remind myself what I can control. I’m in control of my breath, of whether I eat or not. I’m in control of how clean I am, etc. It helps me to think about those things. It also helps to remind myself my perspective is skewed.
This weekend I attended the San Francisco Aerial Arts festival, which was glorious. I went by myself and rode public transportation all the way there and back. Doing so I realized the vast majority of people don’t care about me one way or another. The vast majority are neutral. If I don’t bother them, they won’t bother me. Also at the performance, the sash from my trench coat trailed to the ground and a woman tapped me on the back to tell me so. She demonstrated to me while the vast majority of people are neutral, the remainder of people are good. They want to help. They care about complete strangers and will tell you if you drop something. And then a small minority of people wish me harm. Often it’s not personal and I could easily be swapped out for someone else.
Am I still reeling from the random act of violence? Yes I am. Do I still want to barricade myself in my apartment? Yes I do. And I have to reconcile those feelings with another truth: The world is delightful. People dance on the side of buildings. People sing so well they move me to tears. People paint something that engrosses me for hours. The world is wonderful and terrible. It’s beautiful and hideous. I wish that wasn’t so but it is. All that I can do is what anyone can do, which is continuing to be a good person. To serve others where I can, to stand up for injustice, to sow love instead of hatred, and do my part to leave the world better than when I entered it.
I dream of a world where we remember the world is more good than it is bad. A world where we realize most people are neutral, and those that aren’t are more likely good people than people who want to hurt us. A world where we help others according to our capacity.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Growing up in a spiritual household my parents have been extolling the virtue of surrender for years. And by surrender I primarily mean “letting God and letting God” while still doing what I can, because after all God gave me hands to work, legs to move, stamina to act, and practical intelligence so I might as well make use of them! Anyway, as you know I launched a kickstarter campaign to raise money to get my book professionally copyedited, designed, and laid out. (And if you didn’t know, I launched a kickstarter campaign! The cutoff is Friday and $15 gets you a free copy of the book!)
I can say unequivocally this campaign has driven me NUTS. A few weeks ago I prayed for peace – and I meant it but there was still the element of control within me. I still wanted to influence the outcome. I still wanted to do everything in my power to make. it. happen. I joined twitter to start tweeting about my book using hashtags out the wazoo, I e-mailed friends and family, I posted it to facebook, I pinged complete strangers who I thought might be interested, I prayed (and prayed, and prayed), I tried the whole “Abraham Hicks deal” of feeling what it would be like to get my campaign successfully funded. I felt gratitude for all the contributions pouring in and felt what it be like to have more. Yes, it all worked to a degree, but you know, nothing does the trick like surrender. Honestly, all these methods may work for other people but time and again the universe has shown me I just need to SURRENDER.
Surrender is a recurring theme for me because it’s the antithesis of my personality, which is extremely controlling. I like to plan for everything. I’m the girl who carries around hand sanitizer just in case! So perhaps it makes sense the ultimate answer for me is always the complete opposite of my innate nature. As I type that a little voice whispers, “Surrender is your innate nature – your ego’s desire to control isn’t. That’s what you’re here to remember.” Perhaps that’s why the title of this post is, “If it ain’t broke. . .” because surrender works for me. It always has. So why do I keep trying other things first?!? Probably because in some ways (all ways?) surrender is the hardest thing for me.
I’m rambling a bit because, well, it’s 11:42 p.m. and I’m flying to the middle of the country tomorrow, but I guess I want to say I’d like surrender to be my first choice. Because when I surrendered this campaign, when I said to myself, “I let it go and let it flow. I let God take care of it,” in that moment, that very moment my future sister-in-law e-mailed me a blogpost she wrote mentioning my campaign, I had a new backer for my book, AND a complete stranger e-mailed me out of the blue and said, “Your story and book I feel will inspire others and touch lives in a positive way … I feel it has that energy and I wish you the best of luck with it!” I know it was the exact moment I surrendered because I happened to glance at the clock when I did. I don’t know how many people will back my project or quite how this will all turn out but that’s the point of surrender – I’m turning it over to a power greater than myself to handle.
I dream of a world where we continue to use the tools that work for us. A world where we let go and let God. A world where we do our best and then turn over the consequences. A world where we accept there is only so much we can do and the rest is out of our hands. A world where we let whatever will be, be. In essence, a world where we learn the value of surrender.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.