The Power of Surrender
What if surrendering is the key to discovering who you really are?
When we stop fighting the current, we find we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.
Once I arrived on the Big Island, honu—the Hawaiian word for sea turtle—began appearing everywhere. Statues of turtles greeted me at the entrance of my new neighborhood. The man I was dating performed at a place called “Honu’s on the Beach” every other Friday. And whenever I dipped into the ocean, I’d hear people excitedly call out, “Look! A turtle!”
But most potently, during a Shamanic Journey at a yoga retreat, a sea turtle came to me with a profound message: You are not one drop; you are the ocean.
In this vision, the turtle guided me to see that the walls I’d built around myself for protection weren’t serving me—they were isolating me. We both touched the wall, and it dissolved into water. I followed the turtle into the current and felt the ease of being carried by the flow, rather than resisting it. And as I surrendered to the water, I dissolved into the ocean itself. The message was clear: I wasn’t just one isolated drop struggling against the current. I was the whole ocean, powerful and boundless, and my true strength lay in surrender.
At first, this message seemed simple: trust the flow, let your heart guide you, and remember your immense power. But as I returned to my everyday life, I found it much harder to embody.
For those of us who grew up in environments where control felt necessary for survival, the concept of surrender feels terrifying. Trusting others? Trusting yourself? Trusting the universe? It all feels like stepping into the unknown, and the unknown has often seemed unsafe. We’ve learned that hypervigilance and control are what keep us secure.
But do they really?
“The truth is, control is an illusion.”
And the more we cling to it, the more we lose touch with our true power.
Have you ever caught yourself trying to control how someone else behaves—your ex, your partner, your boss—hoping that if they do or say just the right things, you’ll finally feel safe?
But that safety never comes, because it’s rooted in something outside of yourself.
When we constantly try to control outcomes, it’s exhausting. We burn out from the effort of trying to perfect everything, from forcing life to go exactly as we think it should.
And the irony is, in trying to control everything, we’re actually giving away our power. We’re making our peace dependent on others and external circumstances.
Surrendering isn’t about giving up; it’s about letting go of the need to control everything.
It’s about trusting that life has a greater plan for you, even if you can’t see the full picture right now. Even if you can’t quite see the next step.
Maybe the relationship that ended was meant to show you where you needed to love yourself more. Maybe it highlighted the parts of you that still long for external validation, or revealed the patterns that no longer serve you. And maybe that person was removed from your life to create space for something better—something more aligned with who you’re becoming.
When we ask for growth, for healthier relationships, for a more fulfilling life, we often focus on how it’s supposed to happen. We think we need to orchestrate every step to get there. But the universe isn’t asking you to micromanage the how. It’s asking you to focus on the what: cultivating a deep, unshakable love for yourself that doesn’t rely on external approval. When you focus on that, the how starts to take care of itself.
Surrender doesn’t mean passivity; it means trusting that life is working with you, not against you. It’s about letting go of the resistance that keeps you stuck and opening yourself to the flow that will carry you where you need to go.
When we release the need to control, we make room for the synchronicities and miracles to show up. Suddenly, life starts to feel more aligned. You find yourself in the right place at the right time, meeting the right people, and noticing how everything starts to fall into place in unexpected ways.
The sea turtle moves slowly, with intention, never rushing against the tide. He trusts the rhythm of life, and in that trust, he moves with ease and grace. We too can find strength in slowing down, in releasing the urgency to make things happen on our timeline, and instead allowing life to unfold in its own perfect way.
So what would happen if, during this big transition, instead of fighting and forcing it to be something different than it is, you let life move you?
What if you let go of the need to know every step and simply trusted the flow?
