In defense of surrender

Second in a series for #UULent2018. 

Today's #UULent word is surrender, a word that has such a negative connotation in our culture: of defeat, of compromise, of being wrong, of giving up and giving in.

I've come to defend surrender.

I've been thinking a lot this winter about the Buddhist concept of "not knowing." It arose in the wonderful book my UU Zen group has been reading over many months, If You're Lucky, Your Heart Will Break by James Ishmael Ford. It came up again in my book club's February selection, This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel. Not knowing. The middle way. Comfort with ambiguity. Deep agnosticism, as Ford put it.

In this context, surrender needn't mean defeat. It can mean acknowledging that you don't have all the answers. Should I leave my job with benefits to start a business? Should I marry this person? Should I participate in this clinical drug trial?

Surrender can mean moving ahead without having all the information you'd need to make what many people would call a rational decision. No matter how many Google searches you do, no matter how many friends you consult (on Facebook and face to face), no matter how many studies and self-help books and op-eds you read, no matter how many TED talks and YouTube videos you watch, no matter how many pro-con lists you make, sometimes you need to--or you might simply want to--follow your gut or your heart or your soul and move forward, despite the not-knowing.

Surrender can also mean giving up the idea that you must have an opinion on everything. It's the realization that you need not judge every person, every situation, and every circumstance you encounter. That form of surrender can be incredibly freeing, especially in the political and cultural climate we have today.

If you're reading this blog, odds are good you've read or heard "The Guest House" by the 13th century Persian mystic Rumi, but I'll include it here to refresh your memory (and if it's somehow new to you, you're welcome!):

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival. 

A joy, a depression, a meanness, 
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all! 
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out 
for some new delight. 

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing, 
and invite them in. 

Be grateful for whoever comes, 
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond. 

In other words, if I'm understanding Rumi (as translated by Coleman Barks), you don't need to rail against every politician with whom you vehemently disagree or curse every jerk who makes your life miserable. Nor do you need to sacrifice your ideals and values. But judicious acts of surrender can free you to have new insights, new experiences, and new delights that you may not be open to if you are consumed by the unhappy dogmas, habits, and plagues that are continually being visited upon us as part of being human.

Being comfortable with ambiguity, uncertainty, and surrender takes practice. (I figure I'll be practicing it for the rest of my life.) Since this is Lent, I'll end with a few more verses from Rumi (these are from "A Necessary Autumn in Each"):

There's a necessary dying, and then Jesus is breathing again.
Very little grows on jagged

rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up
where you are. You've been 

stony for too many years. Try something different. Surrender.

Humility, humanity, and the art of adulthood

"It's hard to be humble when you're as great as I am." -- Muhammad Ali

I really hate making mistakes, and I recently made a bad one: In a book review, I relayed another author's quote about the work, but I mistakenly wrote that the person I was quoting had died last summer. My goof was the result of seeing an obituary in a too-quick Google check of the person's name. It didn't help that the still-alive author had the same name and birth year as the person who'd died, never mind the fact they both lived in the same city. Oy.

Mistakes will be made. They're never easy. I'm human, and I admit I goofed here.

Speaking of obituaries, John Perry Barlow died a few weeks ago and I enjoyed reading about his life. The one-time lyricist for the Grateful Dead was also the co-founder of the Electronic Frontier Foundation. Among the artifacts that circulated in remembrances of his life was a 25-point typewritten document titled "Principles of Adult Behavior."

A healthy ego is a good thing, especially leavened with a sense of humor. I can be full of myself at times, and also full of it, so it's a useful corrective to be proven wrong once in a while.

Here's Barlow's list ...

P.S. Thanks for reading. This is the first of what I hope will be weekly posts over the next few weeks in observance of #UULent 2018.