THE YOGA OF SURRENDER
By Marsha T. Metzger
(Sacred Pathways, Oct/Nov 2003)

This past summer, on one of many rainy weekends, my husband and I decided to take a little vacation to the White Mountains, in spite of what the weather was saying. We packed raincoats, windbreakers, sweaters and geared ourselves up for a chilly, damp, but beautiful retreat from our busy lives. My husband is a bit of a risk taker when it comes to the outdoors. Our first morning up in the mountains, I awoke around 5:30 a.m. to an empty bed. It was, of course, raining, and as I peered out the window I saw nothing – no mountains, few trees, only fog and no husband in sight. I promptly went back to sleep, only to be awakened an hour later to, “Oh, honey, I went to the watering hole. It was Sooo cold and so gorgeous! I feel so good,” he said.
“ That’s wonderful, honey,” I replied, hoping against hope he was not going to try to entice me into jumping into freezing water naked anytime during our stay there. Little did I know what gift was waiting for me. He went outside to ride his bike while I did my morning sadhana, stuck between the bathroom and a small cove where we had all our gear. I should mention that in this small space at the hotel we also had our 75 pound chocolate lab, Earl, who is the most affectionate dog I have ever met, i.e. leaving me little space to actually do yoga. Sitting in the lotus position is usually an opportunity for Earl to slobber his affections all over me, and then try to sit on my lap. So as James was out in the mountain air, finding his freedom, I was inside in a muggy room, finding my freedom. Eventually, Earl settled down as I let go into my practice, amazed at what my body was wanting to do –arm balances, backbends, inversions. Oh such sweetness to be in the flow of life…Until James came back even more enthusiastically suggesting that we really ought to go down to the river and take a dip. I began tensing every part of my body in anticipation of the cold water and at the same time dreading the idea of letting him down. We agreed to wait, at least until the early afternoon to visit the watering hole.
Afternoon came, and James’ enthusiasm was not waning one bit. So I gave up and gave in, put my bathing suit on and went to the water with him, resisting every step of the way. I should mention, too, that I have an artificial leg, so when I go into any natural body of water, I have to take my prosthesis off first and then dive in. It is not that easy to hop along slippery rocks with one foot!
We arrived at the spot James had chosen, complete with natural Jacuzzi. It was beautiful. I dipped my toe in the water. It was chilly, but not too bad. There were still many clouds in the sky, but the rain had subsided. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a raft, left there as if by an angel, gently nudging me into the water. James held my hand as I sat on the rock, took off my prosthesis and waded my one leg in the water just to the knee. I slid onto the raft and began to float. Gradually, as I lay on my belly, gliding my fingers through the water, I became accustomed to the cold. I could choose to stay on the raft or jump in the water. It did not matter, I was safe and supported either way and there was no need to judge the situation. I was present, free and I could let go. I rolled over on my back and closed my eyes, drifting off to a nap as I floated to the edges of the watering hole. Soon, I felt a warm glow on my face. The clouds had parted and the warm sun was shining through. Not only did it warm my body, but it began to warm the water. I rolled off the raft into the water. It was good! I climbed back onto the raft to dry off in the sun.
As I lay there I pondered the meaning of surrender. I used to think surrender was giving up hope completely. I had been so reluctant to try this new thing because I feared the outcome (being cold) but as I dove into the experience, literally, I was amazed at how my fear was met in the universe by my need. The raft appeared. The sun shone through. All I had to do was let go into the experience. This was so sweet and so simple. It wasn’t about giving up hope, it was about giving up “hold”.That evening as James went off to another mountain bike ride with Earl, I took my yoga mat out to the deck, now opening me up to the grand vista of river, mountain and trees. With heartfelt gratitude for my “life raft” of the early afternoon, I began my yoga practice. The practice led me to a stream of consciousness practice. I balanced in Navasana, or Boat, with the understanding that I could float through life literally. Whatever I needed would appear before me when I needed it. Yes, sometimes the trip would be very stormy and other times it would feel almost dead, but I was still floating. I was still being carried through. Navasana is a fascinating pose because the eyes, legs and arms are all directed forward, but it is inner core strength that keeps us afloat. The back body remains energized to help “carry you through” the pose. Interestingly, the back body, in yoga, is the part of ourselves that opens to grace, that lets go into the Divine Will. It is also that part of the body that holds huge amounts of tension and congestion as we try our hardest to do it our own way without the intention of surrender to the Divine. Being fully in surrender in Navasana means being held up by the invisible hands of God, hands that can send along a life raft just when we need it, while at the same time, merging that Divine Will with our own will and strength.I flowed from Navasana to Mastyasana, or fish pose, lifting high my heart while grounding my legs to the floor. From fish I rolled over and came up on to my knees. I lifted my hands up and back as I knelt. “Hooo,” I sucked in a huge inhale and exhaled, “Laahhh.” Bending forward with my hands in prayer pose. With each inhale I felt my front body lift and with each exhale I felt my back body release and open. This breath led to Ustrasana, or Camel. Again, the inner strength and balance I felt with my legs and toes pressing into the floor was contrasted with the outer support I felt being held as I reached back with my hands to meet my feet. Camel is a pose that causes people to be “nervous” because they cannot see what they are doing, yet the benefits from the posture – toned kidneys, neck release, open hips, lengthened spine, can only happen is we are willing to literally “fall” into the arms of the Divine. I felt spacious and hugged at the same time! As a Kripalu practitioner, I was trained in the art of the three-stage yoga experience. Stage One is asana practice, with the focus on the rudimentary principles of learning basics. Stage Two Kripalu Yoga is asana practice with a core focus on alignment, subtle transitions and energies with more holding time for each posture. Stage Three is a flow of asana, known as meditation in motion, being aware of ourselves and our individual experience while letting go to the greater oneness or flow of Prana, life force. It is in Stage Three Kripalu yoga that poses such as Ustrasana become an opportunity to allow the energy of the posture to speak for itself, to be a vessel of surrender. We accept what is, rather than resist what is. I allowed my body to experience this flow of Prana as I continued my practice by the side of the mountain.
Ustrasana led me to Virasana, or the Hero. I then released into child pose. I was not aware of time, only of space, within and without. I lay down on my back and released into Sivasana, or the posture of relaxation. As I lay there, I was reminded of a yoga workshop I had done years ago. The instructor gave us words to choose from, themes for the weekend retreat, because the workshop involved learning more “challenging” postures. I chose the word surrender, thinking that would give me permission to let go of trying postures that were too difficult for me. What was so interesting was that my choice allowed me the grace to try all of the postures that I never thought I would try. These are now fundamental postures to my practice.There is a principle to yoga known as yoga on and off the mat. Whatever is revealed on the mat during a yoga practice is probably mirrored somewhere off the mat in our lives. When we can surrender and let go into the flow of life, it saves a world of suffering, self-doubt, confusion, anxiety, and lack of peace. The Dalai Lama’s visit to Boston is relevant here. He has often been quoted as saying that he is overwhelmed by the self-malaise in the West, the tremendous unhappiness of the soul that is at odds with the abundance we experience here. When we are in a state of surrender, we are in a state of grace. There is only now, which is full, wonderful, real, alive. Now is the opportunity to be at one with the Divine.
As I let go into relaxation, acknowledging this surrender to the Divine, yet still maintaining the essence of me, the scent of mountain air was infiltrated by a wet dog and a sweaty husband. They too were in surrender mode. They had surrendered to their bliss and it was showing up all over my face in gloppy kisses and warm hugs. This moment, too, was Divine Surrender. Sat Nam. 

THE YOGA OF SURRENDER©Marsha T, Metzger2003