I give it up to the ocean

A prayer, a reminder, a call to let yourself be held.

To listen while you read…

I am sitting and watching the waves crash from afar. The birds fly by, the clouds shift in and out of my view, it is a picture perfect moment and yet, I am thinking about all of the ways I hope it might change. I am spending this week at the beach with my family, a yearly tradition we started just last year, and it feels challenging to settle in. Instead of placing my attention on the moment before me, I find myself thinking about all of things still yet to come – a solo road trip in September, a trip to LA in October, the yearning for partnership, the clarity I’m looking for around work and money and the mundane necessities of being an adult – completely missing the joy of right now.

I begin each morning with a few hours of solitude – when I am out of my normal routine, I must do everything in my power to hold my practices as closely as possible. I wake up before the sun, I write, I meditate, I pray, I move my body. I use my practices as a container for reflection and recharging; a way to find grounding amidst a new environment and routine, a necessary priority for me to show up fully for myself, and my family, during this time away.

While I was meditating on the first morning of this trip, the whispers of the wind brought to mind a prayer that has not left my mind: I give up my need for things to be any different than they are.

Truthfully, I have been placing my attention on all of the things in my life that I wish would change rather than the beauty of this moment in front of me. Each morning, as I write my morning pages, I ruminate over similar sentiments – the disappointment of a connection not coming to fruition, the lack of clarity I feel around career, the resentment for the people in my life who are not able to show up for me in the way I desire, etc. Each day, I notice my mind continuing to focus on so many things that are out of my control. And each day, I grow more frustrated with myself for not being able to let it go. 

When this prayer began swirling through my mind, I immediately thought about the ocean. The depths and expanse of this body of water that holds so much more than I can fathom. I think about the way the tides roll in and out, the waves crashing in perfect rhythm. I am one speck of sand held within the safe container of the ocean. If I am not able to hold the weight of my own internal suffering, surely the ocean must. 

I didn’t grow up going to the beach. I didn’t grow up going on vacation. I grew up playing in parks and reading in libraries. I grew up at the dance studio, jumping over stuffed animals and laughing with my friends until our bellies hurt. I grew up studying on the screened in porch of my Mamaw’s house. Rolling down the hill and jumping on my neighbor’s trampoline. The ocean intimidates me because it invites me to lean into the trust of something greater than myself. It encourages me to fall into the unknown, instead of backing away simply because I might not know what lives beneath the surface. 

The ocean is not the only place that will hold me and the questions that weigh heavily on my mind. This prayer is an invitation for trust in something much greater.

What if I didn’t have to place so much effort on figuring things out? What if I trusted my impulses, the pings of insight gently guiding me forward throughout my days? What if that thought or idea was not random but rather a message from a force much greater than me showing me the next step forward? What if I did not have to move through this lifetime alone? What if I was unconditionally supported? What if I had containers to hold me through the depths and guide me into the light?

I give it up to the ocean.

I place my trust in something bigger than my eyes can see. 

I give it up to the wind.

I listen for the whisper of my soul to guide me forward.

I give it up to the sun. 

I set aside my doubt, hesitations, and insecurities.

I give it up to the world around me that operates solely to keep me, and everything around me, alive. I bring my awareness to the unconditional love that lives within every blade of grass or drop of rain. I find myself searching for answers, searching for connection, searching for something to affirm the belonging of myself in this world. But if I am here, living and breathing and alive within this vast world, isn’t that confirmation enough?

There is a force much greater than us all leading us through this life. Whether or not you feel it, it is there. And it is our choice whether or not we choose to trust its guidance – or, alternatively, if we choose to follow our ego which tells us we will never be satisfied with this great gift of life. It is courageous to give up the need to know what’s coming next because it requires a faith in something bigger, a deepened trust that everything is happening as it should. 

I place my trust in the knowing that the seasons will change, the sun will come up, and the rain will subside eventually. When I look to the natural world around me, I hear the deepest truth that there is only so much that can be done to disrupt the natural flow of life. I do not doubt that my heart will continue to beat or that my breath will flow through my body as I am sleeping. I am hungry, then I am full. If I can trust the internal flow of my own body without hesitation, why is it so difficult to trust the unfolding of my own life? 

In this lifetime, there are so many things that are in our power – so many choices, decisions, crossroads that will require our agency. But there is so little that can be done about what happens next. You simply decide and move forward. You make a decision and trust that whatever choice will be the one that grants us the lessons are needed in order to move forward and move on in our lives. It is a trick of the mind that it is necessary to know what comes next, or how things turn out. All that is necessary is the knowledge that only you get to decide what you do next and the trust that regardless of what choice is made, you will get to where you need to go in this lifetime.

As I finish writing this letter to you, I am sitting and staring out the window, off the balcony, and out into the ocean. I look to the gentle ripples of the waves for answers – for some sort of insight that I think could help me. More often than not, I am left with nothing other than a reminder of presence. A knowing that I do not need to figure anything out. I do not need to change anything. I watch as the waves crash back and forth and I remember that I am here. I am so lucky to be in this world, in this life, in this moment. There is nothing that needs to change. Alas, I return to my prayer: I give up the need for things to be different than they are. 

I give it up to the ocean.
I give it up to the wind.
I give it up to the forces in this life that extend out past the very edges of this universe. 
I give it up, and I trust. 
I give it up, and I settle into the moment in front of me.