surrender is giving up, letting the universe have power over you, letting go, being who you really are, not caring so much, accepting your life, this is my life, do the best you can with it, it’s yours, no one else’s, and no one else is you.
No matter how many times I experience firsthand the power of letting go, I still hold on for dear life, and then finally let go when I hit some pain threshold. And almost immediately, everything gets better. So I should probably just surrender now.
Why is it so hard to surrender to such memories? Even when you feel you’re ready to face them, to move on, to find closure. Even when you think you’re prepared, you can’t surrender. You can never be ready enough for the horror you forgot so many years ago.
people especially Augustus and Hazel have to give up on their love and their relationship also they have to live with their illness, knowing they will never have the life of normal people.
there exists a sacredness in surrender, a sanctity in acquiescence. like a fallen leaf carried by the river, there is poetry in its trust of the current
surrender is often misconstrued as the opposite of resistance — when it can be its complement. by surrendering to the flow, we’re not abstaining from struggle — we’re navigating it with the wisdom of water, shaping our course along the bends….
Isn’t surrender but the audacious acceptance of reality, an act of embracing the universe as is? What if, we aren’t capitulating to circumstances, but merely recognizing our place within the intricate tapestry of existence?
Strands of sunlight filtered through her surrender, each beam a testament to resilience. She’d let go of what was, to embrace what could be. Now, each sunrise found her stronger, her spirit unfettered, her heart at peace.
One may not associate surrender with empowerment, yet it is often a potent form of control. In surrender, we reclaim our energy from battles not worth fighting, opening up space for what truly matters.
Surrender, they said, was a sign of defeat. But as I stood in the eye of the storm, relinquishing control, I found it to be my greatest victory. A step towards authenticity; a dance with my own vulnerability.
history teaches us of the disgrace tethered to surrender, painting portraits of cowards and deserters. yet, isn’t there nobility in knowing when to yield, in recognizing the futility of a futile fight?
The sound of surrender isn’t loud. It’s the rustling of leaves underfoot, the unassuming gurgle of a brook, the soft exhale of a weary traveler. It’s in these quiet murmurs of life that we find its raw, aching beauty.
The surrender came, not like a flood, but a trickle; each resistance seeping away, as if washed by the cool caress of the river, whispered dreams of acceptance in her ears. It was an ode to a peace found only in surrender.
surrender is giving up, letting the universe have power over you, letting go, being who you really are, not caring so much, accepting your life, this is my life, do the best you can with it, it’s yours, no one else’s, and no one else is you.
No matter how many times I experience firsthand the power of letting go, I still hold on for dear life, and then finally let go when I hit some pain threshold. And almost immediately, everything gets better. So I should probably just surrender now.
Why is it so hard to surrender to such memories? Even when you feel you’re ready to face them, to move on, to find closure. Even when you think you’re prepared, you can’t surrender. You can never be ready enough for the horror you forgot so many years ago.
I’m sorry. I understand.
Gerwin stands over a king. Powerless. It leans over, nothing in its eyes that any mortal would understand. Its eyes narrow.
“Surrender”
people especially Augustus and Hazel have to give up on their love and their relationship also they have to live with their illness, knowing they will never have the life of normal people.
mommy’s alright, daddy’s alright, they just seem a little weird…that cheap trick song is so weird. i like it, but it’s whack…..
there exists a sacredness in surrender, a sanctity in acquiescence. like a fallen leaf carried by the river, there is poetry in its trust of the current
surrender is often misconstrued as the opposite of resistance — when it can be its complement. by surrendering to the flow, we’re not abstaining from struggle — we’re navigating it with the wisdom of water, shaping our course along the bends….
Isn’t surrender but the audacious acceptance of reality, an act of embracing the universe as is? What if, we aren’t capitulating to circumstances, but merely recognizing our place within the intricate tapestry of existence?
Strands of sunlight filtered through her surrender, each beam a testament to resilience. She’d let go of what was, to embrace what could be. Now, each sunrise found her stronger, her spirit unfettered, her heart at peace.
One may not associate surrender with empowerment, yet it is often a potent form of control. In surrender, we reclaim our energy from battles not worth fighting, opening up space for what truly matters.
Surrender, they said, was a sign of defeat. But as I stood in the eye of the storm, relinquishing control, I found it to be my greatest victory. A step towards authenticity; a dance with my own vulnerability.
history teaches us of the disgrace tethered to surrender, painting portraits of cowards and deserters. yet, isn’t there nobility in knowing when to yield, in recognizing the futility of a futile fight?
The sound of surrender isn’t loud. It’s the rustling of leaves underfoot, the unassuming gurgle of a brook, the soft exhale of a weary traveler. It’s in these quiet murmurs of life that we find its raw, aching beauty.
The surrender came, not like a flood, but a trickle; each resistance seeping away, as if washed by the cool caress of the river, whispered dreams of acceptance in her ears. It was an ode to a peace found only in surrender.
if i
could
only
let
go
i’d
likely
find that
all i was
chasing
was
chasing
me
all along