Arising out of the depths of mycelial journeying, two words echo through the cells of this form, through the networks of incarnated dance and play of neurons and roots, of dirt and heartbeat: deep surrender. Deep surrender. No one to surrender to and no one surrendering. Deep surrender beyond words and the separation they engender. Deep surrender beyond form, through form, so deep that form is not yet formed. Quiet, silent, rest. Deeper than sleep - the deep rest of before and before and before the arising of anything, anyone. Pure peace - empty and full. Falling back and down, as no one and nothing. Sweet play of God playing this apparent someone-ness lightly. Using these roots and neurons, beating this heart, breathing the life of this body in service as the medicine of love itself. Nothing to do, no one to be. Deep surrender.
