Lately I’ve been thinking about surrender. Not in the “give up” kind of way, but more like letting go. Letting go of self-stories, other people’s stories, the need to be perfect, precise, certain. Letting go of always needing to know. That’s the hard part really, realizing those stories even exist. The ones I tell myself, the ones others project onto me. They’re sneaky.

In my blog post on outer truth vs. inner truth, I touched on this: how truth and meaning are different, and how easy it is to confuse the two. That confusion can keep us locked in those old narratives. Surrender asks us to loosen our grip.

One of my favorite books is The Wisdom of Not Knowing by Estelle Frankel. She writes about creativity emerging from nothingness, what she calls Ayin, the Source. That resonated deeply with me. The more I surrender to that nothingness, the more creative I feel. I see it in my own meditative ideation practice. When I quiet my mind, close my eyes, ideas appear like sparks. Sometimes they burst into full images. That’s how I came up with an idea for a 3D collage made of painted moths. Totally unexpected, and exactly what I needed.

Being a multipotentialite, I actually know surrender pretty well. I’m always diving down new rabbit holes. I have to. Curiosity pulls me forward, even when part of me wants to stay safely in the background. But surrender makes me the protagonist in my own story, even if that feels overwhelming some days. I’m learning that surrender isn’t about passivity; it’s about dancing between letting go and showing up with joyful enthusiasm.

Whitespace is a big part of that. And honestly? It’s hard. My brain loves being pulled toward something shiny. But I’m realizing I need space, the kind that doesn’t demand productivity. I’m still figuring out how to protect that kind of space in my day. But I’ve started by doing something simple: a mise en place for my art. Just before dinner, I lay things out for my evening session. That tiny ritual feels like an invitation, not a task. A soft landing.

And maybe that’s what surrender really is: making room for surprise. Letting go of the plan so something unexpected, and maybe even wonderful, can find its way in.