The Wisdom of Surrender

This past week I took my very first solo vacation. Traveling alone was something completely new for me. It asked me to make my own decisions, trust my own instincts, and allow myself to take up space without relying on someone else's preferences or plans. More than anything, it became a practice in surrender, letting go of the need to control every moment and allowing the journey to unfold naturally.

On the second day of my trip, I came across a local breathwork gathering hosted by Daniela Gargiulo of Soul to Soul Harmony. I had never experienced breathwork before, but something about it called to me. It happened to be near the Renaissance Faire I already planned to attend, and the timing fit perfectly. It felt like one of those moments where life tells you to pay attention. So I registered.

Divine Timing

The day before the event, I found myself sitting on the back patio of the place where I was staying. Surrounded by trees, birdsong, and open sky, I decided to sit with Hapé. As I prepared the medicine, one word kept repeating in my mind.

Surrender.

I reached for the blend that had been prepared with that exact intention.

Before I even sat down, another thought interrupted me. "You need tissues."

It was such a simple message that I almost ignored it, but something urged me to listen. I went inside, grabbed the tissues, and returned to the patio. As I prayed and settled into the experience, I felt what I can only describe as the loving presence of a feminine ancestor beside me. Through quiet questioning and intuition, I came to experience that presence as my grandmother.

The messages weren't dramatic. They were wonderfully ordinary.

"Wipe your nose."

"Drink some water." "Uncross your legs."

"Take care of yourself." One song in particular settled into my heart as I listed to jazz music playing faintly in the distance, "Look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now." My grandmother loved music and those familiar words landed differently than they ever had before.

To stop resisting the present moment. To recognize the gift of simply being here. Not because life has been easy, but because life itself is extraordinary. It felt less like receiving profound spiritual revelations and more like being gently cared for. And woven through it all was that same invitation.

Surrender.

When I finally stopped trying to control the experience, tears came. I sat quietly with the medicine, surrounded by the beauty of the trees, the rocks, and the wide blue sky. Before closing my time there, I offered gratitude to my ancestors, to the masculine and feminine lines that came before me, to Mother Earth, to Spirit, and to the mystery that connects us all. I didn't realize then that this experience was preparing me for the following day.

My First Experience with Breathwork

After spending the afternoon wandering through the Renaissance Faire; meeting wonderful people, discovering a traditional witchcraft vendor, and finding a few treasures, I made my way to the breathwork circle.

The breathwork itself was unlike anything I had experienced before. At times it felt almost like exercise. At other moments it felt deeply meditative. My entire body buzzed with energy as my breath carried me somewhere words don't quite reach.

Then, during what the facilitator described as the release phase, something shifted. As my breathing slowed, I experienced an overwhelming sense of my grandmother's presence once again. Grief surfaced as a bodily sensation. My jaw trembled. The left side of my body shook. And I began to cry.

For those who know me, I've lived with TMJ for the last 8 months. As I lay there, I found myself wondering whether my body had been holding grief that my mind had long since learned to push aside. Whether or not that's the whole story, the experience invited me to ask a new question:

What am I still holding that is ready to be released?

One moment surprised me more than any other. Music began to play. It was a Christian worship song. Not long ago, I would have immediately wanted to shut it off. My childhood was deeply rooted in the Pentecostal church. While there was beauty and community there, there was also pain. For a long time I believed I needed to reject that entire chapter of my life in order to continue growing spiritually.

But lying there, something shifted. The music didn't feel threatening. It felt... familiar. Gentle. Like another thread in the tapestry of who I am. During the breathwork I found myself realizing that I don't have to erase my past in order to honor my present. Christianity shaped me. Earth-based spirituality transformed me. Psychology helped me understand myself. Each path has offered something meaningful. They are all part of my story. One does not have to cancel the others.

That realization wasn't entirely new. A few years ago an energy reader named Seth Franks shared something very similar with me. At the time, I resisted it completely. Now, years later, I found myself arriving at the same understanding through my own lived experience. And in a place steeped in Christianity no less. Perhaps part of my lesson was one in tolerance. In accepting something that was a part of me and always would be.

Sometimes wisdom arrives long before we're ready to receive it. By the end of the evening I also discovered another beautiful thread of connection. Daniela partner has family in Oklahoma, and we began talking about the possibility of future collaborations and bringing this work to my home community. As I shared more about the spiritual community in Oklahoma, I found myself saying something almost without thinking. "I might not be able to help you, but I know who can."

The words caught me by surprise because they felt familiar. In that moment, I wasn't trying to be the destination. I wasn't trying to be the expert or the one with all the answers. Instead, I realized that perhaps my role here was simply to connect people, to introduce one path to another, one community to another, one person to another.

It reminded me of something I first heard over a year ago. In June of 2025, during an Ancestor Message Gathering facilitated by Nawi and Taloa of Four Wind Wisdom, I was told that one of my life's purposes was to be a bridge for others. At the time, I wasn't entirely sure what that meant.

Over the past year, however, I've begun noticing that theme appearing again and again. Whether through my work in mental health, introducing people to resources, creating spaces for community, or simply connecting two people whose paths seem meant to cross, I often find myself standing between worlds.

Perhaps bridges don't exist to be admired. Perhaps they exist to help others continue their journey. As I reflected on the weekend, I wondered if that was another reason I had been called there, not only to receive something for myself, but to become a small part of someone else's path as well. Like I wasn't the only one meant to be there that day.

Sometimes wayfinding isn't only about discovering where we're meant to go. Sometimes it's about recognizing that we can help others find their way, too. Looking back on this experience, I don't think the lesson was really about breathwork. Or Hapé. Or even grief. It was about surrender.

Not surrender as giving up. But surrender as trusting. Trusting that we don't always have to know where the path is leading before we take the next step. Sometimes we simply notice the invitation. We say yes. And only later do we understand why.

Above: The breathwork space with mats, blankets, bolsters, and instruments arranged to create a welcoming environment for rest, reflection, and guided breathwork. Photo adapted from a Facebook Reel shared by Soul to Soul Harmony on June 29th 2026. The gathering took place at And Now, Yoga with Jessica in Rogersville Missouri on June 29th 2026.

Looking back over the retreat, I also found myself noticing how often the natural world seemed to accompany the journey. A dragonfly. A crow. A wasp. More spiders than I could count, taking me back to the message of the spider shared with me many years ago by Emma Eastwind, High Priestess of Labyrith Temple.

Whether they were simply beautiful moments of observation or symbols carrying personal meaning, they encouraged me to pay attention. One of the gifts of slowing down is that the world becomes more alive.

The trees seem to speak. The birds become easier to notice. Small encounters begin to feel like conversations. I don't always know what they mean, and I've become less interested in finding definitive answers.

Sometimes it is enough simply to notice, to wonder, and to remain open to whatever wisdom the path may offer.

🌿 A Question for Your Journey

When was the last time you allowed curiosity to lead instead of certainty?

Have there been moments in your own life that only revealed their meaning after you chose to trust the path unfolding before you?