All this year I’ve been committed to seriously simplifying my life. For me, that’s largely been devoted to purging my home of things I don’t need and can live without.

Initially, it was difficult to part with things like certain clothes, gifts and especially books. I’ve long had an attachment to books and giving them up was something I have always been resistant to do.

But once I started with the little things it got easier. Ironically, I had to buy a book about getting through clutter that helped me release them. (I kept that one).
After a few loads off to the Salvation Army I didn’t even miss what I’d donated.

More and more, I just wanted to let things go. It used to be a white-knuckled process but I found myself, on some days, just looking for things that I could pack up and move out.

Then I came across a rather large cache of old journals. I could hear myself slam on the energetic brakes.

When I looked at them I remembered a therapist friend once suggest not re-reading old journals because you take in that old pain, angst and trauma anew.
When I came upon these journals I felt like this would be pivotal… and scary.
These journals represent phases of my life, old wounds and stories that go with long-healed scars.

These are physical manifestations of earlier versions of myself.
And to be honest, I don’t want to revisit much of that. Growing up, and not just in my teen years, has been largely an uneven and graceless process.
So why did getting rid of these journals feel like such a stumbling block?

I was starting to think it was all about surrender.

Then a couple days later I got my weekly Yoga Journal email and the subject line was “Surrender” and I knew there was a lesson rolling around just waiting to land in my lap.
Like all my life lessons I let it sit in my inbox for a few days. Did I mention I was a resister?

Blissfully, there wasn’t anything to resist. This divine message enlightened me about the concept of Ishvara Pranidhana: heartfulness practice.
It’s the practice of releasing anything that gets in the way of aligning with the grace of being alive.

A sacred shift.

I see surrender like that, too. It’s a process that allows us to move forward, not always easily, but move all the same.
Some things we hang onto make us better, keep us true to ourselves and others merely keep us bound to the past and at a distance from our truth.
It only makes sense that letting go of these journals was big.

It came down to this:

Am I willing to surrender who I was, who I have been, to pave the way for who I am working to be?
Am I willing to move forward, untethered, with heartfulness?
Surrender = progress.

Sunshine & Sarcasm,

Lowi & G