A Love You Would Love—and the One You Get

The Paradox of Courage and Surrender

I lost ten thousand dollars yesterday. All because of a poorly-worded email. It was my mistake, nobody else’s, but it was easy to cast blame, to search for meaning in the midst of the unpredictable. It was the weather, Mercury in retrograde, the repercussions of deeply held trauma in my body. Something other than random error.

I was going too fast and made a mistake that cost me greatly, that’s the truth. And for the past twenty-four hours, I’ve been carrying the weight of that shame, the energy of I-should-have-known-better and I-can’t-believe-I-just-did-that. In my mind, such errors are unforgivable, at least when the stakes are so high and everything is riding on me. “This can’t happen,” I say to myself, thinking about bills and kids’ activities and another mortgage payment.

And yet, it did.

Today, the sun is shining, and my daughter has a glow on her face as she emerges from around the corner of her classroom to show me how she’s learning long division. It is her last day of school; summer is starting soon. My son proudly wears his new Crocs, adorned with a collection of carefully curated pins sticking out the tops of his very ugly shoes. He smiles, and so do I; we hug, two boys becoming men.

This is a good day.

Back home, my wife is probably sitting outside, sipping a latte, planning how she’s going to tend to her flowers this weekend. She gives them all names and talks to them, and I love watching her go. In a text, she asks when I’ll be back home and tells me she doesn’t need more coffee. My instincts are to see if I can do more, to go beyond what is expected, to keep pushing. But she reminds me that it is okay to relax, to “let it be enough.” And I sigh and nod and try to believe.

Earlier this week, I was reminded that Mary Morrissey’s Brave Thinking hit bookshelves, coincidentally releasing at the same time as Ray Edwards’ Read This Or Die. The timing was curious, as I worked on these books at different times and they have overlapping (and somewhat conflicting) messages:

Mary’s book is about changing your life through altering your thinking, by being brave enough to imagine a reality other than the one you have.

Ray’s is about learning to live with what is, wrestling with the situations you can’t control and finding a way to make peace with them.

The tension between these two books may be the central paradox of all human experience: to be both courageous in how we face life and flexible with what it throws at us. Knowing when to challenge our circumstances and when to accept them is the stuff most wisdom literature is made of, and I am still struggling to know when to do what.

What does it mean, to be brave? Must we stubbornly resist everything other than what we want, or is it okay to let some things go? And when is acceptance just plain cowardice? Maybe, like all paradoxes, both ends of the spectrum are true.

Let’s start with the “brave thinking” side of the equation. Bravery is not natural. Humans are creatures of comfort and defenders of the status quo. We biologically cling to what is easiest and most expedient, because that’s what feels safest to our animal bodies. Nonetheless, every once in a while, the most timid of creatures can still boldly buck their programming, exchanging temporary security for lasting satisfaction. We all have this capacity to transcend our circumstances, to go beyond what we are told is possible. We just tend to forget it.

To create some things in life, we are required to think more courageously. We’ve all done this in shape or form, and it can be enlightening to look back on such moments when we did the unthinkable: quitting a steady job to chase a crazy dream, ending a relationship in hopes of a new and better life, and so on. To reflect on the chapters of a story that is still being told is a wonderful way to remember that you are more resilient than you think.

And still, sometimes, shit happens. You get fired. Lose ten grand. Make a dumb mistake and have to live with it. And that’s when you have to figure out not just when to be brave, but how. This is where acceptance comes into play. It’s not enough to pick a fight with every single moment, demanding things be some way other than how they are. No one can live a decent life challenging the way it unfolds all the time. Before you can change reality, you first have to face it.

When my friend Ray got Parkinson’s, he initially denied the seriousness of the illness, believing he would be miraculously healed. This belief almost killed him. It was only when he made peace with what was that he had some control over what could be, finding a way to redeem his situation not by surrendering to it but by turning something terrible into something beautiful. A preacher once told me that “God only blesses or redeems.” Although that explanation seemed simplistic at the time (still does), I liked it. Maybe everything is either a blessing to be enjoyed or a story to one day laugh at. Maybe both.

What is the right tension between loving what is and resisting entropy? When do we need to change our life by thinking radically different thoughts, and when do we need to face the music? I don’t always know; but perhaps these aren’t so different after all. Isn’t it possible, after all, to be both ambitious and content at the same time? The creaks in your joints can be both ailments to be addressed as well as reminders of your own frailty, yes? You are, in a way, both temporary and everlasting; and navigating this tension is the challenge of being alive.

All I know is that when I try to control every little thing, I suffer. I get angry at mistakes I made when I wasn’t paying attention, living in fear of repeating the past. This makes me take fewer risks, and as a result my life starts to shrink. Now, I am playing too small, worried about the slightest misstep, settling for less than I deserve. Resentment mounts, and I feel frustrated at the chain of events that led me to this point. I want to be anyplace other than here. Want to get back that money. Want it to not bother me. There is a voice inside me that says here is but a station, a stopover point on my way to “there.” And once again, I am lost in my mind, searching for answers that do not exist.

Is this another version of hoping for heaven while missing the magic of now? Maybe all the glory I could ever long for can be found in the song of a cardinal proudly sitting atop a streetlamp who watches me hurry somewhere else. Perhaps the only Paradise I ever lost is still lurking in my yard somewhere, hidden in the flowers that keep leaning towards the sun. And maybe the only beatific vision I need is a glimpse of today, zooming out far enough to see that it all works out in the end.

Soon, I will pack up my laptop and leave the coffee shop where I’ve spent the majority of the morning. My wife keeps asking if I’ve left yet, and I have not. Later in the day, our paths will intersect and she and I will make our way to the front porch, where we see everything more clearly. Perhaps, as is often the case with us, we’ll laugh at the latest onslaught of little dramas that have piled on us. It’s always only a matter of time before we eventually chuckle at what previously felt unbearable. With enough time, almost any challenge becomes a source of levity.

Is this all one cosmic joke? Is it all as grave as it feels?

Yes.

Bravery might not be resistance to what is as much as a willingness to see another story overlaying what seems to be happening, one where every unresolved thread eventually collides at the intersection of something difficult and hilarious. And surrender might mean allowing what is without letting it destroy you—even on weeks when you feel like a fuck-up and should have known better. Maybe it’s all going to be okay. But that doesn’t mean I won’t proofread my email next time.

P.S. To work out this tension in your own life, I suggest you pick up both Ray Edwards’ Read This or Die (which still comes with a a bunch of free bonuses available here) and Mary Morrissey’s Brave Thinking. I had the privilege of working on both these titles and learned something from each of them. Together, they may teach you how to make the most of your life and never settle for anything less than a life you would love.

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© 2023 Jeff Goins
548 Market Street PMB 72296, San Francisco, CA 94104
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