Surrender. I lay on my yoga mat this morning face down and surrendered. I surrender to this experience. Wrapped tightly around my body, my white flag whips and catches in the wind as it trails out behind me. The snap of the fabric cracks audibly with me, as I break open at the feet of the Universe. There is gall in this surrender. It is not the sweet surrender to a lover, or the gentle acceptance of soft reconciliation. It is the brutal, bloody, war-torn heart, who cannot see the other side of the battlefield, who wishes they could crawl through the mud to safety, who dreads the hand of the victor on their neck. But, who lies face down for the world to stand over - waiting. There is shame in this surrender. It is the breaking of a spirit. It is being crushed by the heel of those in power. Does accepting it make more palatable? I am loathsome. Powerless. I breath in this experience. It fills me. I wait for sleep - there I can forget for a few hours who and what I ...