The Splendour of Surrender

Yesterday, the hills were wild. As I walked a blizzard began to howl across the landscape, and I fought it. I was locked in a physical struggle with my umbrella, wrestling with the wind, determined to keep dry, determined to stay in control.

Then, through my headphones, the song I Surrender by St. Finnikin began to play.

In that moment, I let go. I put the umbrella down. I let the wind have its way and I simply knelt on the earth, making myself small against the rushing force.

The struggle vanished. It was so much easier to let the blizzard pass than to exhaust myself fighting it. And as I sat there in the quiet of my surrender, the landscape began to reveal its secrets. Because of the heavy rains, dozens of new waterfalls had woken up. They were rushing from hidden places, silver veins of water carving paths down the ancient hills. They only appear after heavy rains. They were splendid. A gift I would have missed if I had been too busy fighting for my own protection.

As St. Finnikin sings: “There is a vision That I've created in my heart. Will I see it come to life or Will it fall apart? Can the universe do better than my dream? She said let it go and see..''

I look back at the long, windy paths of my own life. There has been so much loss, so much grief that felt like a winter that would never end. You fight, you beg, you question God... until you finally reach that quiet point of surrender. And in that space, there is such a strange, beautiful freedom.

There is a peace that comes when we stop demanding answers. I’ve learned that if my heart has the capacity to hurt this much, it means it has the capacity to love even more.

We often live with so much protection over our hearts that we become numb. Our "Protectors" are just doing their job, trying to shield us from the sting of the world. But that shield also blocks out the light. It robs us of the intense joy that makes life worth living. I refuse to live half-dead anymore. By opening my heart, I invite the intensity of it all—the sadness and the joy—and they make me feel alive again. Without the deep shadow, we wouldn't recognize the light.

My business was born in this same surrender. At first, my ambitions were met with a heavy silence. It felt like God was withholding what I wanted. But in that "sacred pause," I discovered I didn't truly know what I was asking for. There was something better waiting—something I couldn't have imagined while I was still fighting.

In the surrender, I found my voice. I found the power of writing, the soul of the silver clay, and the deep, restorative medicine of the wild land. In the silence of the hills and the sacred whisper of water, I found me.

There is a quiet magic in not needing to know what the next chapter looks like. We can only do our best with the resources we have in the present moment. We cannot control the future, but we can stay aligned with our values, our intuition, and the things that make our souls sing.

We take the next best step, trusting that there is a higher power holding us. We are never alone, especially when the blizzard is blowing.

When the storm comes, remember: you don't always have to fight the umbrella. Sometimes, you just need to kneel, breathe, and trust.

The waterfalls are coming.