Surrender and Attachments

"There is a difference between watching the mind and controlling the mind. Watching the mind with a gentle, open attitude allows the mind to settle down and come to rest. Trying to control the mind, or trying to control the way one's spiritual practice will unfold, just stirs up more agitation and suffering."

-Bhante Henepola Gunaratana, "Eight Mindful Steps to Happiness"

Learning how to watch the mind when all my life I have been taught to control my thoughts, my words and my feelings is a powerfully challenging experience. I am certain the Buddhists would tell me it's because I am trying too hard . . . but it's remarkable how hard it is to just BE, when my life has always been about DO-ing.

I have over the past several years been brought to humbling awareness of my fierce need to control – myself, my thoughts, my feelings, my environment. Until very recently I spent an immense amount of energy fighting against being out of control in the most amazing ways, creating an abundance of misery for myself (and frequently for those I love).

My current path is one of surrender. Frequently that means reminding myself (over and over) to let go, even (or perhaps especially) when I am terrified to do so. Increasingly, however, I notice that it is not a super-human effort to let go, instead finding myself almost surprised to experience an ease, or equanimity, as I witness my life unfold. This is perhaps most surprising to me because of the immensity of life transition I find myself in. Perhaps it is because I recognize that it is the path I am being called to, and so I am walking it, even though I can’t see where it is going. That in-and-of-itself is simultaneously terrifying and well . . . not. It just IS.

In between my moments of equanimity, mind you, I continue to be chagrined by how much my thoughts and behaviour are driven by deep fear. Somehow I keep thinking I should be more evolved than to be so driven by fear. Of course, as a recent article I read pointed out, I create my own suffering by judging my suffering (or in this case, by judging my experience of fear.)

Buddhists talk about releasing attachments (be they to joy or to sadness) for happiness in this lifetime, and I recognize in this wisdom the core of my life-long angst. From a young age I have grasped, with tight fists, to whatever I have, or want, or feel I need, should have . . . terrified of the idea of loss. This pattern of attachment has meant that I have held on to many things, including relationships, long after they have ceased to be healthy for me. Of course, this has often led to much discomfort for both myself and for the people around me.

One of the less obvious ways that attachment shows up is in the stories we are attached to - about ourselves, about others, about 'the way things are.’ It is amazing how powerfully we can stay unconsciously attached to a story that stopped serving us many years ago. It is especially humbling for me when I finally become fully aware of I have contributed to holding onto a story by unconsciously re-creating in my life over and over again.

For example, my story, for a long time, was that I had to do everything myself and essentially, things would fall apart if I didn't take care of them. Funny enough, this often appeared to be true . . . until I finally became aware that on an unconscious level I was helping to engineer that story. When others tried to help, I got in their way such that they couldn’t really help me. You know - 'supervising, doing it for them, etc., or I simply set people up by not clearly articulating my need/desire for help (not that I would have admitted that in the moment) or best yet - I simply did it myself, without asking for help, telling myself, "what's the point - no one will help anyway."

Once I began to recognize the story for what it is - a story, and my part in creating and maintaining it, I am able to choose how I want to be with it. As a starting point, I am able to witness myself acting it out, and just notice it, or find the humour in it, or pause in the process and choose a different behaviour. Whatever I choose, by recognizing the story, I am then able to begin to release it.

As I walk this path of surrender, it continues to mean letting go in ways big and small, again and again and again. Next month, it will mean letting go, physically, of much of what I own in the world. I have been mentally/emotionally letting go of those possessions, bit by bit, for months as I have moved towards this decision to sell off or give away the belongings I have kept in storage for almost two years. What finally tipped the decision for me was connecting with the stories I have nurtured around those belongings; stories of who I ‘should be’ by ‘this age’ and what I ‘should have,’ and the home ‘I deserve,’ and ‘what it says about me’ if I have furniture that matches or if I don’t.

And so I find, as I let go of the stories, that I am far more ready to let go of the stuff. When I realize that the beautiful, almost new chocolate brown couch is just that – a couch, no matter how new or beautiful, and not a representation of a life I ‘could have’ . . . then I am ready to be released from the weight of carrying it around with me.

Of course, all of this clarity doesn’t mean I won’t have a good cry (or 3 or 4) when I see all my possessions walk away with other people, but it does mean I have absolute confidence that I will be ok, however things turn out. It does mean that, increasingly, I trust that the universe will take care of me, and I don’t have to work quite so hard manage it all.

As I reflect on this prospect of finally letting go of my things, I feel my ego reaching out for that feeling of satisfaction – of the ‘look what I did – I got rid of all of my stuff,’ and I let go of that too. I return to my awareness of the connection between attachment and suffering - and I notice, with gentle humour, that I have been playing with the idea of selling/purging everything for almost 2 years. I recognize that over this time my attachment to the story that I "must let go of my attachments" that has made this journey so much more painful than it ever needed to be. Oh well - now I am choosing to let go because I am ready - not because I 'should,' and not surprisingly, I am not suffering for it.