Surrender
I once asked a monk how he found peace.
"I say 'yes,'" he'd said. "To all that happens, I say 'yes.'"
Before I got sick, the last thing my Western mind wanted to say was "yes." I was obsessed with my business, with visions of selling it, making enough money to never work again. You can argue that obsession fuels innovation in our society. True, perhaps. But quite often, behind obsession is fear.
And there was plenty of fear. Fear of what people would think. Fear of letting employees and investors down. Fear of failing and what that would mean about me. I used the fear as energy, driving me forward, pushing to achieve, pushing to succeed, paying no attention to my body, to the present, and I paid the price.
Often, the price for not being present is pain.
Now, I understand what the monk meant. There is a surrender to what is, to the moment. Whenever I notice fear in my mind, instead of pushing it aside or using it as fuel, I say to myself, "it's ok." A gentle yes to myself. To the moment, to what the mind is feeling.
Often, that is enough to deflate the fear. From there, I shift to the truth of loving myself.
Knowing this, I realize that I still could have built a great company, had a beautiful relationship, managed my health, and reached out to my friend before she passed away and told her how much I loved her. I could have done all of this from a place of gentleness, a place of self-love.
But I can't erase the past, only learn from it. It's ok. Applying what I know makes the present and the future a beautiful place to be.