surrendering

look for surprise, submit to surrender, embrace abandon. it might be your greatest responsibility

Lotus Circle/Lotus Goddess, 1986-88, by Bernice Bing

Growing up I was terrified of surprise. I sought to extinguish them from my life. I never wanted to be out of control again, lest I embarrass myself or look stupid in front of my class or all the other worst-case scenarios that played on loop in my head. I liked to play it safe, needed to know exactly what was going to happen and how to respond in the perfect way. Over time, I distilled the art of being in control at all times down to a science.

Of course, like any effective theory, it only worked in very controlled environments, under very specific assumptions. So I chose to give up a lot of normal life in exchange for this power. New social situations were too chaotic for me, so I avoided them with a fervor that most would associate with a deep resentment of or indifference towards others. The “arts” was a field I had never tried much and had failed at every time I had, so I rejected my internal protests whenever remotely close to that ideological area piqued my interest. Being someone disagreeable was out of the question because it meant I would have to respond to people’s arguments, so I doused myself in water until all my spice drained down the sink.

The issue, as I discovered later, was I had cut life down to such an excruciatingly narrow slice that it was rarely interesting to me. I was confronted with a persistent boredom. Every day felt the same. Problems were slight annoyances but easily solvable (of course, any option too difficult was eliminated under my conditions for a controllable environment). It’s as if I had eliminated surprise from life, intentionally wilted the flowers, forced my head back into the cave. For power, I gave up wonder. For control, I gave up love.

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As life went on, I rediscovered love. I learned you have to look stupid to do anything meaningful in life. You have to embrace chaos to find resonance. You have to become intimate with awkwardness to be fully at peace. You have to know pain to recognize love.

Now, I love surprises and not knowing. Where before just the thought of that would fill me with anxiety, I feel a budding excitement. After a cataclysm, life came rushing back, like lush forests sprung from volcanic soil.

I love when the world surprises me. Plants that smell different than they look. Food that looks different from how it tastes. Colors that make an unexpected pairing or how long a plant can survive despite the negligence of its owner. Spotting the moon peeking out during the day, watching its steady growth cycle over the month and then getting to see it do it all over again in a new part of the sky. Surprising combinations of reflecting light against the side of a building, spotlighting a beautiful multi-colored autumn tree, highlighting the imprint of my shadow, my bike and I forming a centaur-like figure, against the pavement.

I love when people around me surprise me. Unexpected feats of strength from small bodies. Delicate movements from bodies that tower over the world. Outfits that make me stop and think to myself, I want to have that amount of personality. When a laugh will slice straight though a chaotic day. The way pure enthusiasm bubbles and spreads like a virus from someone gushing passionately about something or someone they love. How warm a hand can feel even when it’s clearly frozen solid and the air has sucked feeling out of your extremities.

I especially love when I surprise myself. This feeling is usually directly triggered from the above two, so they all play together in a nice virtuous loop. When I notice how what I notice in the world has changed, paying attention to the beauty in the mundane. The times I see how my ability to bear witness has evolved, sitting comfortably giving my full attention to the people around me. How being by myself in public no longer terrifies me or makes me self-conscious. When I find myself confidently taking in my stride down a city block.

Even though I don’t easily get overwhelmed by emotion despite feeling deeply and I find being overwhelmed uncomfortable, I love the sense of abandon I get in these rare moments. They feel like glimpses at something approaching emotional truth, the commandments of my personal canon. Each of these surprises is a little progress marker, showing me how I’m growing and changing, moving in some direction that I’m gazing towards. These moments are clues at a deeper personal resonance that I didn’t even know existed.

So take this as a sign to look for surprise. Submit to surrender. Instead of running away, let it wash over you. Relinquish control to the world. Treat it as your greatest responsibility. Surrendering is an act of courage. It says I trust myself to let go.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong