copyright Bela Johnson, published by Inner Tapestry, October/November, 2003

Seek the wisdom
that will untie your knot
seek the path
that demands your whole being.
Leave that which is not, but appears to be
seek that which is, but is
not apparent.
- Rumi

Most of us have heard the saying, "Go with the flow!" Surely life would be much easier if only we could. If we listen to the wisdom of the ages, we hear that God helps those who help themselves. We also hear to surrender to the will of the divine, as in "I will to do Thy will". What is correct action, then? Surrendering completely to something greater, (or) using our God-given minds in decision making or asserting our heart's desire in partnership with The Mystery, the ultimate Dance of Life? And if this partnership is to take place, how do we know when to step in and do our part?

Going with the flow implies living in the moment, which very few of us have fully mastered. Our lives seem ever pregnant with choices, many involving simply being able to function in today's hectic world. How do we meet unplanned expenses within a limited budget? Where can we squeak in some down-time with work, community and family obligations? How are we going to meet with another's approval, or even to pull up even with our own standards?

Ezra Bayda, in his book BEING ZEN, offers that "perhaps the one question that we don't ask often enough is 'What do I have to offer?'" For asking this question can lead us into a more authentic means of self expression, no matter the challenge. We can only offer what we have to give, and that is unique to each one of us. In our culture, however, this giving too often translates into something material. And this is not where Bayda means to take us. Instead, the question of what we have to give might take us further into our own being, the ultimate territory of the unknown, even the unknowable, a truly frightening proposition. Fear is uncomfortable to the Western mind, trained as it is in facts, figures and a few hard theories.

The more we confront the unknown, however, the more the Mystery may reveal itself to us. Thus we are able to enter into a partnership with the divine. Yet even knowing this cannot eliminate the journey into the places which frighten us. In her book THE PLACES THAT SCARE YOU, Buddhist nun Pema Chodron reminds us not to use spirituality as a way to bypass fear. For we cannot awaken to our authentic nature when we are making choices based on moving away from fear. Instead, there is always the potential to turn fear into adventure if we can fall into the void of the moment. For it is here that creation awaits us. This can be an important step for those of us whose hearts are full of desires and creative urges which are simply awaiting birth and fruition into their ultimate manifestation.

Given the complications of modern-day existence, we can embrace more flow by beginning where we are, with all our petty thoughts and annoying habits and other human imperfections. We can assume that we have an important part in all of creation, and know that, in opening to flow, we are establishing a link to what is divine within us. This can often release a tremendous amount of pressure around trying to make the "right" choices. Wherever we go, there we are, the old Zen saying goes. We are what and where we are, and moment to moment is the only reality in which we have any power. Unquestionably we are filled with desires and longings, yet we can place these into the realm of intention. Our "must have's" create tension, and tension finds its outlet in frustration, anger, addictive substances or behaviors, and/or control dramas. Instead intentions, or "would like to have's" may be placed on the altar of desire which frees us of their burden. Once placed, we are free to step back in wonder as we observe creation, moment by moment.

As one can seldom know or guess how a partnership with the mysterious forces will work its magic on one's behalf, we can only surrender to life in the here and now. For on some level, we recognize the wisdom in letting go and letting God. Over time and given the chance, we may, upon reflection, be surprised and delighted by how events and circumstances allow for our creations to spring forth. Over time, often years, we gain confidence from observing this hands-off approach. We learn from experience that invariably, if we try to work our will, things simply do not turn out as well as they might have otherwise. Therefore, surrender becomes a learned response to the challenge of the ego's desiring nature. Change happens slowly, although not much in our current societal model suggests this to be true. We can change our lives for the better. Relationships can evolve. Transitions can be smooth. Wishes and desires really can be fulfilled, though not always and perhaps never in the way we expect. The key element is surrendering to the flow, to the dance of life. Change is constant. Everything is in flux at all times. We cannot possibly know how the desires of one facet of creation, ourselves included, can intermingle with the seemingly-conflicting desires of another. Clearly the orchestration of this dance is in the hands of the gods.

When we surrender to the flow, we learn to more acutely observe life as it unfolds before us. To ask for creation to show us a sign, then to miss the hawk flying overhead or the book which seems to pop off the shelf into our hands, is to ask that the numinous become the mundane. We cannot expect a personal note from God to float into our hands while waiting for the bus. However we may assume that all of creation conspires to help itself evolve toward something greater at all times. If our desires are in harmony with all of life, they will find fulfillment. We simply cannot control the outcome of events, gain a concrete grasp of the boundaries of The Mystery, nor coerce life to conspire with our own vision. Surrender is key to participating in the dance of all living things, to living in the flow. Yet surrender can be one of the most difficult practices we will ever implement. For it brings us full circle to confronting our fear of the unknown. Pema Chodron suggests that even enlightenment, or being fully awake, "is just the beginning of fully entering into we know not what." If we do not begin to confront our groundlessness, we will ever be trapped in the illusion of security and safety. Surely the events of September 11 two years ago gave our entire nation a wake-up call in this very direction.

Yet while we contemplate the groundlessness of our existence, it is important that we not forget the wisdom of our bodies, the only ground we possess in a physical universe. Surrender can happen, and happen effectively, without giving up what is essential to us. A balance between giving up the ego's desire for control and a deep trust in the kinesthetic knowing of the physical body allows us to truly dance through both complexity and splendor. Honoring our bodies, trusting pain's message that, in Chodron's words, "we are holding onto something," teaches us to release emotional and physical baggage so that we may find a ground in the present. Listening to physical cues attunes us to the divine vessel we inhabit. As we surrender to the moment, we pour life force back into this vessel, energizing and clearing it of the rattling that fear creates. Then into the flow we go, into the Dance.