A Dialogue on Surrender and Stillness

There are seasons when all our spiritual understanding is called into question. When life does not unfold through clarity or calm, but in upheaval, uncertainty, and unwelcome change. In these moments, it is not the heart, but the mind that resists—grasping for control, clinging to the world we imagined instead of the one that is.

The dialogue that follows arose during a quiet afternoon in my clinic, while working with a Tibetan Buddhist nun I have come to know well. She has been ordained for over fifty years, a woman who has walked the path of Dharma with devotion, wisdom, and an unshakable grace. Over time, we’ve cultivated a simple and sacred rhythm, acupuncture offered in silence, her presence offered in return. Her very being transmits something still, kind, and awake.

It was during one of these sessions that I learned she had founded a monastery in Bodhgaya, the sacred land where the Buddha attained enlightenment. For over three decades, she has cared for this refuge, now home to eighty nuns. And yet, without drama or complaint, she shared that the monastery is under threat—a gang, aided by corrupt officials, is attempting to take the land, putting the entire temple and its residents at risk.

What followed was this quiet dialogue. A passage of presence, wisdom, and surrender. A teaching spoken between two women, one still learning how to let go, the other having done so many times before.

A Dialogue on Surrender and Stillness

Me:
There are moments when my mind cries out a loud, trembling no.
No to illness.
No to grief.
No to losing the dreams I held so close.
No to fear, to this strange unraveling of life.
No to what is.

Nun:
Yes, the mind resists. It grasps.
It wants the world to stay fixed.
But life was never made to obey our wishes.
Even the lotus blooms in the mud, not in clean water.

Me:
But why do we resist what nature welcomes?
She transforms through fire and flood.
She doesn't argue with the seasons, or wish the storm away.
She surrenders to the process.
Why is it so hard for us?

Buddhist Nun:
Because you forget that you are nature too.
You are not separate from this movement.
You are not separate from the Divine.
But somewhere along the way, the mind was taught:
Peace means no pain.
Love means no loss.
Joy means no cracks.

Me:
But that illusion,
it robs us of serenity.
It makes us believe something is wrong when life becomes difficult.

Buddhist Nun:
Nothing is wrong, child.
Life is not wrong when it storms.
The wind does not apologize.
The fire does not beg forgiveness.
Everything changes. This is the dharma of all things.

Me:
You’ve walked this path longer than I’ve been alive.
You’ve built a monastery from nothing.
You’ve given your life to compassion.
And now, your temple, your sanctuary is under threat.
How can you bear it with such calm?

Nun:
Because I am still human.
Because pain visits me too.
Because even after all these years, life continues to test me.

Me:
But haven’t you earned peace?
Haven’t you already surrendered enough?

Nun:
Peace is not a prize we earn.
It is a presence we cultivate.
I have no bitterness. No resistance.
I trust what comes. I trust what leaves.

Me:
So you don’t try to stop it?
To fight the injustice?

Nun:
I act when I must.
But not from panic.
Not from fear.
I meet what arises, then I bow to what I cannot change.

Me:
Your words feel like water washing over me.
I study texts, I teach others to breathe, to feel
but you live it.
You live the teaching in your every movement.

Nun:
True dharma is not taught.
It is remembered in presence.
I do not teach by preaching.
I teach by being.

Me:
And the suffering?

Nun:
Is part of it all.
Freedom is not the absence of hardship.
It is the end of resistance.
Equanimity is not coldness.
It is the still flame at the heart of change.
It is loving life even when it doesn’t go your way.

Me:
Then the mind must learn to soften.
To stop defending.
To stop rehearsing what should have been.

Nun:
Yes.
When you stop demanding that life match your plan,
you begin to glimpse the real beauty.
And peace becomes possible.

Me:
I want to learn that.
To rest in the storm.
To walk without armor.

Nun:
Then begin by saying yes.
Trust that everything has its place,
even this.