Episode 12 — Surrender & Ekagrata

Two Weeks of Letting Go and Leaning In

 

Part 4 of my Vipassana Integration

I am writing this six weeks later.

And that matters.

Because when I look back now, I know what came after these two weeks. I know the grief that arrived. I know how life suddenly turned again, and how momentum can be swallowed by pain, confusion, family emotion and loss.

So part of me wanted to rush past this episode.

To get it “out of the way.”

But when I looked back at my notes from the week of Surrender, I realised something important: these weeks deserve to be honoured too.

Not because they were perfect.

Not because they were untouched by what came later.

But because they were real.

There was beauty there. There was growth. There was pride. There was food, family, love, beach sand, books, boundaries, body pain, money structure, a blue motorbike, and a strange kind of preparation for what I could not yet see coming.

Sometimes the medicine of a week only becomes visible later.

Not while we are living it.

Later.

When life has moved on, and we finally ask: what was this trying to show me?

Part I — Surrender

Surrender Is Not Collapse

The week of Surrender came after the big Quantum Leap decision.

I had said yes.

And then came the part after the yes. The onboarding. The practical steps. The first real feeling of: okay, this is not an idea anymore.

At the same time, Jojan had given us a text on Surrender to read three times as a deep dive. I remember the feeling of it more than the exact words. It had something ancient in it. Something that touched the ego, the Divine, devotion, release, and the deeper question of what it means to stop gripping so tightly.

For me, Surrender did not feel like weakness.

It felt more like opening the hand.

Not giving up.

Not letting people walk over me.

Not collapsing.

But releasing the need to control every response, every outcome, every role, every old identity.

And of course, life gave me a practical place to live that immediately.

I realised I needed to step out of Consensual.

That world had once held deep lessons for me around surrender, ego, trust, leadership, vulnerability and rebirth. There had been beauty there, and also complexity. It had taught me things about giving over, holding space, releasing control, and finding yourself again after a deep experience.

But I could feel that my relationship with that field had changed.

The team had lovingly held space for my possible return for a whole season. That was beautiful. And yet, it was no longer clean for me. My energy was still woven into something I knew I was not truly returning to.

So I thanked them.

I honoured what had been.

And I left the team app.

Not everybody received that easily. There was hurt, and I could feel old dynamics being activated. Although I was willing to have a conversation, I also knew I did not need to turn my choice into a courtroom.

That was part of the surrender.

Letting someone have their reaction.

Letting myself be misunderstood.

Letting go without needing to make everyone comfortable with my leaving.

Later, I had a beautiful conversation with someone from that world where gratitude, love and closure could be expressed more cleanly. That helped.

Because surrender does not always mean a door slams shut.

Sometimes it means you bless the room you are leaving.

When Space Holding Has a Boundary

That same week, I went to a cacao gathering at Veronique’s home.

Beforehand, I had realised I owned two copies of Anatomy of the Spirit, so I brought one as a gift. And then, almost magically, I discovered that she had a book I had wanted for years: De Magie van de Geboortedag.

She had it twice.

So a book that had been on my wish list for years came home with me.

I love those moments. Ordinary magic. A little wink from life.

But the gathering itself also taught me something about surrender.

People arrived very late. There was waiting. There was noise. There was a kind of looseness around the ritual that did not feel respectful to me.

And I could feel the Dragon in me rise.

Not to attack.

To guard.

Because surrender has a boundary.

Space holding has a boundary.

Being inclusive does not mean abandoning the energy of the room. Being loving does not mean pretending that everything is aligned when something feels off.

Later, when someone went into a deep emotional process, I also remembered something important: when a person is releasing, it does not always help to hush them or soothe them too quickly.

Sometimes we call it care, but underneath it is our own discomfort.

We want the sound to stop.

We want the emotion to become more manageable.

We want the room to feel safe for us again.

But true space holding does not take over someone else’s process. It stays present. It supports. It witnesses. It trusts the release without needing to control it.

That stayed with me.

Because I think many of us confuse surrender with passivity, and support with interference.

This week reminded me that surrender can be deeply loving and deeply clear at the same time.

The Sacred Ordinary

Meanwhile, life was still very ordinary.

My home was still being worked on. The ventilation system was being replaced, and a kind man came to do the job. He had a calm, peaceful energy, and we had one of those conversations that becomes a small pause in the day. I gave him a GIN card to listen to the audios because it felt right.

There was still heat.

The kind of heat that makes being at home difficult.

There were storage spaces to refill after asbestos work. There was a lamp that no longer worked. There were practical things still waiting to be handled.

And there was food.

Again.

Takumi with René. Twice in one week. Zaytoona. Sushi Point with Veronique after the cacao ceremony.

Food keeps appearing in these weeks, and I do not think that is random anymore.

Sometimes food is comfort. Sometimes it is celebration. Sometimes it is regulation. Sometimes it is the ordinary place where love sits down at the table and says: breathe, we are here now.

I also went to the beach with René.

Once just to dip my toes in the sand.

Another time for a full day together.

And that mattered.

Because the body does not only need insight.

It needs sand.

It needs water.

It needs food.

It needs laughter.

It needs somewhere safe to exhale.

Pride, Family and Letting Them Grow

One of the beautiful moments of the week was my eldest son Dion’s presentation at the Technical University in Delft.

He could bring guests, and I went with René, his girlfriend and my ex-husband.

We sat there in our best clothes, near the front, watching the students present their work. I loved seeing the creativity, the preparation, the technical minds, the way they had built and thought through their projects.

And I loved seeing Dion there.

Self-confident.

Capable.

Standing in his own energy.

There are moments as a mother where you see your child and realise: he is becoming himself.

Not because of you.

Not separate from you either.

But as his own being.

That made me proud.

And perhaps this also belongs to surrender.

The surrender of watching your child become an adult.

The surrender of not needing to hold their hand in the same way.

The surrender of letting love change shape as they grow.

Part II — Ekagrata

One-Pointedness

The week after Surrender became Ekagrata.

One-pointedness.

And for me, this showed up in a very practical way.

I started and finished my quarterly bookkeeping within three days.

On time.

That is huge for me.

Because bookkeeping has carried so much pressure, avoidance and old self-judgement in the past. But this time, something in me gathered itself.

I focused.

I started.

I continued.

I completed.

And I felt proud.

Not in a loud way.

In a grounded way.

Like: this is evidence.

Evidence that I can follow through. Evidence that I can do something with clarity. Evidence that one-pointedness is not only a spiritual word. It can also look like finishing your administration on time.

I also booked my hotel for Train the Trainer in Düsseldorf.

This time, I did not only choose the cheapest option. I remembered what I had learned from the rough Stayokay experience during Millionaire Mind Intensive. The quality of the stay matters. The ease matters. Especially when the training days are long, intense and full.

So I called the hotel. Asked about the room. Arranged the bed type I wanted. Reached out to someone I had met to possibly share the room and split the cost.

It may sound like a small practical thing.

But it was not small to me.

It was me preparing the path.

It was me reducing future stress.

It was me acting as if this next season of my life deserves support.

Autonomy Is Also Focus

Ekagrata also showed me where my focus was being disturbed.

There was tension in a group I am part of. I will not go into every detail, because the details are not the medicine.

The medicine was autonomy.

I felt pressure around how things “should” be done, and something in me resisted. Not because I do not value agreements. I do. Deeply.

But I also know when energy starts to feel like micromanagement. I know when a group becomes noisy, full of messages, praise, correction and constant activity that scatters rather than strengthens focus.

And I know myself.

I am not built for constant posting, constant liking, constant proving, constant online group behaviour without a clear beginning or end.

That does not make me wrong.

It means I need to honour how my energy works.

The same happened with a business opportunity that crossed my path. Something about it did not feel clean to me. I checked it with someone I trust, and my instinct was confirmed.

So I did not go further.

That too was Ekagrata.

Not spreading myself thin.

Not chasing.

Not entering every room because someone opens a door.

Sometimes focus is not only about what you do.

Sometimes it is about what you refuse to give your energy to.

Blue Monster and the Joy of Being Alive

And then, in the middle of all this surrender and focus, there was joy.

René bought a motorbike.

A beautiful cobalt-blue motorbike with two wheels at the front and one at the back. A seat for me.

The man who sold it was emotional. He loved that bike, but his wife could no longer sit comfortably on the back because of her back pain. And he said something so simple and so loving: what is the point of having a motorbike if you cannot enjoy it with the person you love?

That stayed with me.

Because the bike came to us through someone else’s surrender.

And then it became our joy.

We later named it Blue Monster. René’s car was already Blue Eye, and now there was Blue Monster too. Stickers were made. Characters were born. A little world of our own appeared.

My first time on the bike felt like a bucket-list moment.

I have always had this dream of having a boyfriend with a motorbike.

There I was.

Sandy from Grease energy.

René as Danny.

Riding through The Hague, towards the beach, the sunset, the freedom, the fun of doing something new together.

That was not productivity.

It was not business.

It was not healing work.

It was life.

And sometimes, that is the most healing thing.

To remember that I am not only here to process, grow, surrender, focus, build and become.

I am also here to live.

The Body Still Speaks

At the same time, my body was speaking.

There was fatigue. Heavy energy. Pain in my legs, Achilles heel, hips, thumb and fingers. My body was protesting, and even now, weeks later, some of that protest is still there.

That is the honest part.

One-pointedness does not mean endless energy.

Surrender does not mean the body suddenly becomes easy.

Living with MS means I have to keep remembering that a rich life still needs recovery. That excitement still costs energy. That emotional processes, heat, training, travel, grief, family, business and practical life all land somewhere in the body.

I also noticed judgement when I needed to sleep.

One day, before an accountability call, I had gone to sleep at 11:30 in the morning. Part of me judged that.

And yet, I needed it.

That is also part of my path.

Not making rest into failure.

Not making fatigue into a character flaw.

Not forgetting that a full life does not mean a limitless body.

What These Weeks Asked of Me

Looking back now, I can see why Surrender and Ekagrata belong together.

Surrender asked me to open my hand.

To release old roles. To bless what I was leaving. To stop managing other people’s reactions. To let the sea, the food, the ceremony, the body and the Divine remind me that I do not control everything.

Ekagrata asked me to gather my energy.

To finish the bookkeeping. To prepare the next training. To trust my instinct. To say no to what felt scattered or unclean. To remember that focus is not harshness. It is devotion.

And maybe that is the deeper lesson.

Surrender without focus can become floating.

Focus without surrender can become force.

But together, they create something different.

A softer strength.

A clearer path.

A way of moving that says: I do not have to control everything, but I do have to choose where my energy goes.

That is what I am taking from these weeks now.

Not the full diary.

Not every detail.

But the medicine.

Let go.

Choose.

Rest.

Prepare.

Enjoy.

And when life is rich, full, painful, beautiful, messy and alive all at once — do not make that mean you are failing.

Maybe it means you are living.

This is Part 4 of my Vipassana Integration series.
Part 1: Equanimity
Part 2: Wholesomeness
Part 3: Anicca / Change

If this reflection touches something in you — especially around surrender, focus, boundaries, fatigue, old roles, or the feeling of being pulled in too many directions — my free 5 Human Clouds guide may help you recognise what is moving underneath.

And if you feel ready to explore your own pattern with personal support, you are welcome to book a Discovery Call.