Surrender... To What?

“It’s been seven years,” confessed Jack to his friend, Clara, “Since I read The Surrender Experiment and vowed to surrender myself to whatever path the Universe has in mind for me.”

“Wow. That long? I still remember when you called me, convinced that this was your fork in the road,” said Clara, suppressing an urge to roll her eyes. She knew where this was going.

“Yep. Maybe even closer to eight. But I’m still an actuary, still living in Ardmore, still thinking about discovering my true self.”

And still, thought Clara, the most rigid, resistant to change of all my friends. But instead she asked, “Why do you guess that surrender has escaped you?”

Jack took a look around the Ripplewood restaurant. He ate here every Thursday night, always had the Charred Chicken and two Rip Manhattans, always left a big tip and went home happy.

“It’s not like I haven’t tried. I keep waiting and watching for a big sign that will tell me it’s time to let go of my old ways.”

Clara looked around and had a very different perception. Jack always insisted on meeting here, was seldom willing to drive into Philadelphia, and had taken the same two vacations for the past decade: Steamboat Springs in the winter and Boothbay Harbor, Maine in the summer.

Her polite, supportive demeanor dissolved. What was the point of meeting Jack twice a year just to make him feel better about living in a rut? Was that true friendship? With love in her heart, she resolved to tell her longtime friend the truth.

She started gently. “Jack, this isn’t LA Story. A billboard isn’t going to start talking to you. The signs we get are more subtle than that, more like a quiet voice than a loudspeaker.

“You hate change. You crave stability. After all these years, I still don’t know what a good day is for an actuary. Does the exact number of people you predicted die?”

Jack looked offended.

She was dead serious about that last part. How could anyone spend their career predicting mortality rates?

“Jack, a vow to surrender paired with the inability to notice the subtle energies that surround you is pretty much the same as a vow to never change. Surrender is just a word until you put clear intention—and conviction—behind it. Tell me one thing you have changed in the past seven years.”

He thought for a moment. “I no longer have dinner every night with my kids.”

Clara shook her head. “They left for college. That doesn’t count.”

He looked out the window. “I have no idea what you mean by subtle energy.”

Clara explained, “Paying attention to subtle energies means to be more in tune with your own body and mind, such as noticing how your body feels after a good meal or a stressful day. It's about becoming more aware of the small, often overlooked signals your body sends you.

"You might think of subtle energies as a way to understand your inner state. Just as you know when you're tired or hungry, learning to sense these energies can give you a deeper insight into your emotional and physical well-being.”

She took a deep breath. It was now or never. Either she smacked him hard or the guy was going to spend the rest of his social life in this one restaurant.

“The truth is you don’t know when you are happy and you don’t know when you’re sad, because you almost always dwell in a slightly deadened state governed by routine.”

That hit a nerve. “Deadened state? Is that how you think I live?”

“Jack, when was the last time you got goosebumps?” He just stared at her.

“You never laugh out loud, never get so excited you can’t wait to tell me something, never get really high or low.”

Jack jumped on that. “What’s wrong with being balanced?”

Clara kept pushing, hard. “You’re not balanced. You have virtually eliminated emotion from your life. The reason you haven’t seen a sign is because you lack the ability to feel or sense the signs that surround you.

“If I had to guess what your surrender needs to be, it’s to surrender to the fact that you are human, you have emotions and that a rich life is utterly unpredictable.”

Clara instantly felt bad. She stared at the table, then fiddled with her fork. Jack’s silence just made it worse. He was a good friend and she had no desire to hurt him.

When at last Clara looked up, she was startled to see a tear running down from Jack’s left eye.

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

**

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