The Word That Won't Leave Me Alone: How Surrender Became My Unlikely Teacher

Some words choose us, don't they? They slip into our consciousness and refuse to leave, showing up in the most unexpected places until we finally pay attention.
For me, that word has been surrender.
Where It All Began
The first time surrender found me was during an ayahuasca retreat. In that profound weekend of inner exploration, two words emerged like gifts from the depths: breathe and surrender.
At the time, I understood surrender as something I needed to do in ceremony—letting go of fear and control so the medicine could show me what I needed to see. It wasn't about giving up or being passive. It was about softening. Trusting. Allowing.
What I didn't realise was how this single word would weave itself into every corner of my life afterwards.
The Uncanny Repetition
Since that retreat, surrender has been everywhere:
In my spiritual studies: Kabbalah teaches certainty beyond logic—a concept impossible to grasp without surrender. The Kabbalists understood something profound: sometimes we must release our need to understand everything before we can truly know anything.
In the teachings I'm drawn to: Whether it's Mindvalley's transformational content, Bashar's channelled wisdom, Soma Breath practices, or meditation teachings—the same theme echoes through different voices: let go, trust the process, be present with what is.
In my daily practice: Every meditation session, every breathwork experience whispers the same invitation: release control, trust what unfolds, live fully in this moment.
Is this just my brain's reticular activation system—that mental filter that makes us notice what we've already been primed to see? Almost certainly. But the sheer consistency feels like something more. Like life itself is holding up a sign: Pay attention. This matters.
The Business Transformation
Nowhere has surrender shifted my experience more dramatically than in my work life.
I used to be the person who chased outcomes relentlessly. I'd lie awake worrying about whether a project would succeed, whether a client would respond positively, whether my efforts would pay off. That constant mental grip was exhausting.
These days, my approach looks different: I focus completely on doing excellent work—then I release it into the world. I send the email, publish the post, deliver the presentation... and then I genuinely let it go. No death grip on the outcome. No spiraling anxiety about reception. Just trust that my best effort is enough.
Here's what surprised me: the less I chase, the more flows back to me. By loosening my grip, I've created space for opportunities I never could have forced into existence.
What Surrender Actually Feels Like
The best metaphor I have is this:
Before surrender: Walking hunched over under a massive, overpacked backpack. Every step is laboured. Your shoulders ache. Your back screams. That's the weight of trying to control everything.
After surrender: Walking upright with nothing but what you actually need. Your shoulders are relaxed. Your stride is natural. You can actually see the horizon instead of staring at the ground.
The difference isn't just mental—it's viscerally physical.
The Ripple Effects
Surrender hasn't magically solved every challenge in my life, but the shifts have been undeniable:
- Sleep comes easier, even during stressful business periods
- Anxiety has loosened its stranglehold on my nervous system
- Creative energy flows more freely when I'm not constantly second-guessing myself
- I feel more aligned with the spiritual practices and teachings that resonate with me
- Decision-making feels clearer when I'm not attached to specific outcomes
An Invitation to Notice
If surrender keeps showing up in my life, I wonder—is it showing up in yours too?
Here are some ways to explore this possibility:
Pay attention to resistance. Where in your life are you gripping tightly? What would happen if you loosened your hold, even slightly?
Experiment with "do your best, then release." Pour yourself into your work, your relationships, your creative projects—then practice letting go of how they're received.
Use your body as a laboratory. Meditation, breathwork, even conscious walking can teach you what surrender feels like physically. Once your nervous system knows this feeling, you can access it anywhere.
Reframe surrender as strength. This isn't about being passive or giving up. It's about choosing trust over fear, flow over resistance, presence over anxiety.
Still Learning
Surrender continues to be my teacher. Each time it appears—in a book, a conversation, a moment of stress where I remember to soften—it reminds me to set down that heavy backpack and walk with more ease.
Maybe that's the real lesson: surrender isn't a destination you arrive at once. It's a practice you return to, again and again, each time discovering something new about what it means to trust the unfolding of your life.
What word keeps finding you? What lesson is life trying to teach you through repetition?
Sometimes the universe whispers. Sometimes it shouts. But it always knows exactly what we need to hear.
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