Surrender and Small Comforts

I am sitting on the couch in the dimming evening light, in the glow of the computer screen. I am happy to have no where to go, nothing to clean, no one who needs a phone call. I think I need some time to digest all that late August and early September have brought me. I feel a bit like a snake who has swallowed a cow. I need some time to lie here, inert, while the silent, invisible work of digestion takes place. Looking back, it has been a hard month and yet, when I say this, I am aware that not every moment was hard.

Yesterday I tried to practice surrender as 3 of us walked along the sun infused shore of China Beach, to just breathe in the energy of the giant trees in the forest and let the sound of the waves fill my ears. Nothing else. To let go of the subtle tentacles of wanting and needing, of planning and hoping, of thinking. Just to release the silent undercurrent and eddies of my habitual imaginings of how life should be. It was a fine warm day with good company.

Today after we delivered my good friend to the airport we stopped by to clean the last of my mother's things from her apartment. It felt good to have that taken care of. A few more faces of care workers and staff appeared to say good bye and I was able to offer them thanks for taking good care of my mother. Tomorrow I will deliver them some treats and a card, say a few final thank-yous and good byes. A closing and an opening woven seamlessly together, as so many things in life.

And so the trick as always is to be with what is, not to push away the sadness, but not to be swallowed by it. To take some time and rest and just be. To follow the call of what is needed, instead of rushing to fill up the space. To surrender, to let unfold what will. Sleeping in, being lazy, reading a book in bed these are the things that sound good to me right now. To just really sink into these small comforts.