Meteor.

The Art of Moving Without Gripping.

Surrender does not end when we awaken. That is when its practice begins.

We do not have to control the journey to participate fully in where it takes us.

We must be still and still moving

Into another intensity

For a further union, a deeper communion.

(T. S. Eliot, East Coker)

Three weeks in the Navel of the Moon, returning to our roots, spending time with those who gave us life, remembering where we came from. And then, the crossing back to our Island.

As soon as I settled into my seat, I fell asleep. I did not awaken until we landed.

Somewhere between departure and arrival, I lost all sense of time and place. I was travelling, yet had no awareness of movement. Crossing an ocean without knowing where I was, or even where I was going. For hours, I simply allowed myself to be carried.

A week earlier, three words had found their way into my heart: Surrender. Trust. Receive.

And now, without any conscious effort, I was living them.

I surrendered to sleep.

I trusted the journey.

I received the landing.

No turbulence to remember. No hours to account for. No concern about the distance remaining.

Just an arrival and something within me had shifted.

Back home, beside our altar, in the familiar cockpit of our spaceship, I found myself energised, grounded, clear and creative. The horizon seemed open in every direction. And life was already calling.

Commitments awaiting our return. Conversations requiring attention. Decisions asking for courage. Projects approaching completion after long journeys of their own.

New beginnings taking shape alongside unfinished business.

The wheel is turning and I am ready to move with it.

Yet something interesting happens when we shift gears.

We may surrender in stillness, only to reclaim our need for control as soon as movement resumes.

We may trust the journey while being carried, yet become impatient when others move at a different pace.

We may feel ready to receive, while quietly deciding what receiving ought to look like.

Perhaps surrender is not tested in the moments when we can do nothing, but in those when we have so much to do.

A conversation opens the possibility of renewed trust.

An unexpected connection reminds us that love travels effortlessly across distances.

An opportunity appears for someone whose journey we have accompanied with hope, even when its outcome remains uncertain.

A chance to help another person presents itself.

And elsewhere, a boundary asks to be honoured.

There is a time to say yes and a time to say no. Neither contradicts surrender.

Generosity does not require the abandonment of discernment. And boundaries need not close the heart.

Then there are the quieter lessons. The ones waiting for us in the intimacy of our relationships.

I returned feeling expansive, eager to reconnect and move forward. Yet I noticed how easily my own enthusiasm could become an expectation of another.

But even when we travel together, we do not necessarily arrive at the same moment. Each of us carries a different journey within.

Can I welcome another's rhythm without abandoning my own?

Can I remain open without insisting on being met exactly where I stand?

Can I offer love without deciding how it must be received?

Perhaps this is what the three words have been asking all along.

To surrender our insistence on how things must unfold.

To trust that what is growing may not yet be visible.

And to receive what life offers, rather than only what we had expected.

Not passivity, not resignation, not the abandonment of responsibility, but the freedom to participate wholeheartedly, without becoming imprisoned by the outcome.

The year is gathering momentum.

The next turn of the wheel is already approaching.

There is much to accomplish, much to nurture, much to bring into being and somewhere on the horizon, another homecoming is already taking shape.

For now, I am back at the cockpit, the engines are running, the sky is wide open and the invitation is wonderfully simple: Move when called. Rest when carried. Stand firm when needed. Remain open to what arrives.

Surrender.

Trust.

Receive.

May we remember that we can travel at extraordinary speed without losing the stillness from which we move and that sometimes, the greatest change in direction begins when we finally loosen our grip.

Yo lo Creo / I believe, and so it is.