Surrender Dorothy!
February 24, 2010, by Melissa Howden
Melissa Howden finds heart, patience and peace, in an unexpected way.
Just as Dorothy tripped the light fantastic down the Yellow Brick Road, so of late have I.
I liken the start of 2010 to my own private storm—raggedy emotions and best-laid plans, turned upside down in quick succession. Perversely stubborn and independent, it’s begun to dawn on me that life is not created on will and persistence alone. In short, nothing in my life has been flowing with ease.
The most recent and hopefully final insult being a freak accident during a ski lesson (part of my “plan” to improve my skills, face my fears and get in the best shape possible) on a mogul made of ice topped with fresh powder. Going down, my pole stuck in the wrong position with my wrist trapped in the strap; I heard the snap, snap of two bones breaking.
Adding insult to injury, one of the first questions posed to me by the young brawny ski patrol was, “Have you had a bone density test?” If Kansas was my youth, I knew I wasn’t there anymore. To his credit, he was very skilled and he did refrain from calling me “ma’am”.
Duly splinted, “slinged” and tied into a gurney-like sled in a snowstorm, ski patrol guy skied me down one of the steepest mountains in North America. All the way down I heard a familiar refrain ringing in my ears. “Surrender Dorothy!” Funny how that happens since at that moment surrender was really my only option.
I don’t know how Dorothy interpreted the message but for me the effect was visceral, a relaxation into knowing that I don’t know…a damn thing.
Currently I am reading the book Lit by Mary Karr. When Mary questions what it means to surrender she is told:
Yield up what scares you. Yield up what makes you want to scream and cry. Enter into that quiet. It’s a cathedral. It’s an empty football stadium with the lights on. And pray to be an instrument of peace.
Sliding down the hill, injured, in the hands of a stranger becomes just another part of the journey, a spiritual journey akin to Dorothy’s—demons and all. “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”
I know in the great scheme of things, a broken wrist is not a big deal. It has, however, forced some awakening and also made me realize in the most clichéd way how much I take for granted. Needless to say I have had to yield a lot. Or more plainly speaking, getting my pants on constitutes a good day.
Believing that the Scarecrow, Lion and Tin Man were simply aspects of Dorothy’s self, I have adopted them as my own for the time being. As I write this I am typing with only my left hand, a practice I have also had to extend to my previously good handwriting.
Thus in a peculiar homage to the Scarecrow I am developing the alternate side of my brain, and I am told, warding off early onset dementia.
Sitting in the quiet, accepting what I cannot do and asking for help is humbling. These things when mixed with practical challenges such as sheets of ice in the driveway require a digging down deep on my part, relying on faith and summoning courage.
The heart part I am finding in the prayers.
And pray to be an instrument of peace.
Prayer has as many interpretations as people who practice it. For me it’s often a simple plea, “Help”. Sometimes it’s a silent interaction with the natural world such as the resident magpie on my fence. But heart, I’m finding is also about extending patience and tenderness toward loved ones and myself. Acceptance brings peace.
With two more weeks of imposed stillness, I am hoping I can make solid friends with the silence and carry it always as a reminder of all the things I do know but had for some months lost sight of. “Surrender Dorothy!” then becomes a most valuable mantra.
February 24th, 2010 at 8:48 am
Wow! Again you blow us all away with your depth and wisdom and humor! This is at once spiritual, filled with wisdom & hilarious! looking forward to your next post!
February 24th, 2010 at 8:55 am
Thanks for the reminder Melissa. The next time I sit in traffic and find myself wondering what’s wrong with everyone else, I may try and muster up the patience, humility and stillness and pray to be an instrument of peace.
February 24th, 2010 at 8:56 am
Ok. I’m practicing compassion.
A grown woman puts a stick on each foot and a pole in each hand and decides to slip and slide down a mountain of snow and ice?
Do I have that correct?
And you did this because you wanted to “improve your skills”, “face your fears”, and “get in shape”?
Well, it appears to me that you accomplished all of your goals!
You can type left handed.
You have warded off dementia.
You now ask for help.
NICE GOING, MEL!
Ahh, next time before you do something like this ……. ask Dot.
Do have a speedy recovery. It all sounds like a drag to me.
February 24th, 2010 at 9:25 am
First of all, I loved this essay! Secondly, I am struck by how fotunate we are here in the United States in this century–and most of the last one–to be able to exercise our willfulness at all. It was not so long ago that women were chaining themselves to the gates of power and starving themselves in jail in order to secure our right to be willful and put ourselves in ski pants without being arrested for trespassing on what was formerly men’s territory. Whatever you are suffering through, and as a fellow right-wrist-fracture-survivor I can say this, it is nothing compared to what others suffered before us to give us the right to risk and break our bones and our hearts. I say, congratulations for risking. And when you are all healed up, take that newfound courage and tranquility and risk again, as is your right to do so. And do get a bone density test!
February 24th, 2010 at 9:34 am
Ooyy do we ask for “surrender” for do we become
surrendered??? I once prayed for “humility” from big my ego
and learned going down the yellow brick road, just
because I asked for one of these virtues, wasn’t enough.
I had to go through the process of purification to know
humility. And, yes I did go through it for years, and
continue. You are a brave person, Melissa!!! I, myself,
take things very slow these days, because I know my
body is not the same on any level. So cheers to you for
having the eternal spark of courage to ski the slope of
surrender and letting go!
February 24th, 2010 at 9:36 am
And yes, I do speak and write English, not so good today!
February 24th, 2010 at 10:36 am
Did you have a bone density test…I need to know!
That line killed me I was laughing so hard.Great writing.I used to have a “surrender dorothy” tee shirt.I will try to find you one.
February 24th, 2010 at 11:10 am
Lovely piece! Sounds like you’ve been in the depths of a How Do You Make God Laugh?/Tell Him Your Plans phase. I’m with Dan–ask Dot, your personal Dorothy (!), what’s what…
February 24th, 2010 at 11:40 am
Yes Melissa, you put it so well. Surrender comes in all forms coaxing us into going with the flow— teaching that we can’t be in control of everything, and that life’s challenges put us on our asses for a reason. This morning I woke with a headache and sore throat. When shaking up a bottle of juice, it sprayed all over. Then the oven mitt caught on fire. So for me, today, surrender means getting back in bed.
February 24th, 2010 at 11:54 am
OK Tube… if I had 5 bucks (inflation)for every person who has said to me “that is why I don’t ski” I’d be in some tropical locale drinking beverages with umbrellas in them. But I don’t have the 5 bucks and I want to practice fearlessness and keep my body moving. But I am temperate enough. that I was taking a class. Precautionary skill building. And as Pru says I have the right, so I want to exercise it. Go to N.O.W’s website to see how they have taken on the cause of Women Ski Jumpers denied, on the basis of gender, the space to compete in the Olympics. As for the rest,it is all part of the pilgrimage….just trying to be awake and conscious on the road.
Yet sometimes…getting back into bed is the most sane response.
February 24th, 2010 at 2:32 pm
prayer is surrender,
surrender is prayer
February 24th, 2010 at 3:18 pm
When you’re hanging on tight to the edge of that cliff, letting go is the hardest part. But falling is usually the answer!
February 25th, 2010 at 6:24 am
Wonderful piece. I admire you for wanting to improve your skills in skiing, and don’t think we should necesarily stop challening ourselves, our bodies. Wathcing the Olympics these past two weeks is inspiring. And, while it’s true these kids are athletes and not over fifty, it does make me beleive I can do a little more than what I’m doing. My dear friend Adele who is 87 always advises me to know my limits and pay attention to my body. Good for you for tyring.
February 25th, 2010 at 9:15 am
My friend Denise is one of the most youthful people I know. Just by her being I am reminded to keep moving. Denise is ten years older than I am. She teaches yoga, she is a lifelong surfer, and also a snowboarder (learned later in life).
I’ve held my own in workout classes with women in their 30’s though I am sure I feel it twice as much later. How well we do is not all that important though, just that we do and keep doing. My grandmother went to exercise classes 2 or 3 times a week until she died at age 93. Up until the last, she was smart, alert, and in excellent physical shape. Good genes, exercise and probably her nightly Grey Goose straight up on the stem – contributed to her long vital life!
February 26th, 2010 at 9:54 pm
Thank you, Melissa. Trenchant and sensitive as always. Ladies, am I the only one who misses our gorgeous, intrepid Connie? Home (as in my county) tomorrow with her beloved, from the winter wilds of the Colorado rapids. Love to all of you. I observe and appreciate every one of you, from 2,650 feet of Sierra Nevada foothill.
February 27th, 2010 at 2:30 pm
Mel–
I LOVED every bit of this!
It was a jewel to read!
March 1st, 2010 at 3:45 pm
I have a lovely piece created years ago by the then two wristed-Melissa that tells me to “Give it up Fluffy.”
Thanks, Fluffy.
March 5th, 2010 at 12:43 pm
Hi Melissa: Great post, thanks. I so relate to this line:
“life is not created on will and persistence alone. In short, nothing in my life has been flowing with ease.” I guess most of us go on will & perseverence, after all that’s what we were taught isn’t it? My mother, a Welsh immigrant at age 8, got through most of her life that way. She’s finally surrendered in her 80’s – not from choice – but from dementia – & has found peace. I know so much about getting in the flow But often forget & then the pushing begins (physically efforting, overworking, mentally driving myself etc., you know the drill!).
Ellen Besso
MidLife Coach & Author
http://www.ellenbesso.com/midlifemaze