The ultimate act of power is surrender – Krishna Das

I don’t consider myself a chauvinist, but facts are facts; I wear the pants in my relationship with Catherine. Needless to say, it is Catherine who tells me which pants to wear. She also tells me how I should wear my beard and which cologne to wear. There are also instructions on my shirts, jackets, ties, pocket squares and shoes. These instructions change with each new occasion. New shirts, jackets, ties, pocket squares, shoes and even watches, magically turn up in the wardrobe, regularly.

I protested at first. I even tried tiring her out, “If you want my beard neat, you’ll have to shave me with a cut-throat razor, daily,” I said. So, she did. Of course, I had reckoned with slight underestimation of her willingness to challenge. As it was early in our relationship, I had failed to read her slow growing smile and narrowing eyes. I’ve since come to learn that this expression is one of imminent danger. If expressions had a voice this one would shout, “Game on, sucker!”

Catherine has kept up the shaving and beard manicuring routine, daily, for the last 4 years. Somehow, I don’t believe my plan is going to work. She doesn’t seem to be slowing down. In fact, she calls me to her side, each day, shaving crème and cutthroat in hand.

I have a small confession to make. No, it’s not that I’ve set up a Sweeney Todd barber shop with Catherine as my willing accomplice, it’s more about what these daily routines have begun to mean to me. I love them.

It’s the little moments that I know are coming that keep me engaged. When the shaving is complete, Catherine will oil my beard and then comb it into place. She then looks at me for a moment, tilts her head to one side, stares, straightens once more, then kisses my forehead, saying “Beautiful” before tucking my hair behind my ears and hugging me. It’s tender. To think that this lovely routine, with its provision of deep connection, could have been missed had I not surrendered the identity that I had built for myself – I am long-bearded Gregory; I dress and present how I like!

My feelings regarding the actions and routines of my newly appointed fashion guru, has got me thinking about the importance of surrender in the pursuit of a life best lived. Two countries come to mind: Germany and Japan.

At the end of World War II, the formal surrender of Germany was on May 8, 1945. It was followed by the announcement of Japan’s surrender on August 15, 1945. In terms of how this worked out for them, it was a good move, I’d say. Small picture thinkers remain determined on winning at all costs. Large picture thinkers understand that many games are won from the position of defeat. As Germany and Japan well know, it’s all about the big picture. It only took two decades to pass from the point of their defeat and both countries were amongst the strongest economic powers in the world.

In 1999, I was fighting my own war. Post forest, by three months, I was sitting on a park bench behind the Tweed Heads Hospital. It was after a strange epiphany that I suddenly had complete clarity around what I must do. That is, I was going to do whatever it took not to be the man that I had been up until that moment. However, there was safety in that man, he was predictable and I knew him. He was also slaughtering any chance that I was going to have at a future. He was well on his way to killing my physical self, having destroyed my mental wellbeing, many years prior.

About that future, I had no idea what that might look like, and this scared me. All I knew was that with change, the future had to be brighter than the past. With that, I willingly surrendered my old self, leaving my backpack of alcohol and drugs behind. I did take some things with me, however, my full name, Gregory Peel Smith, and my word as a human. In that moment of surrender, I became the most powerful version of myself to date.

Some might struggle giving up their core beliefs and the identity they’ve built for themselves. I know I did, at first. Slowly but surely, the fruits of surrender started to pay off. I learned new things. I allowed myself to feel fear without masking it with drugs and alcohol. I allowed myself to be vulnerable in the presence of others. This is when I began to grow in ways that I could never have imagined, nor would it have been possible from my old position of defiance as defense.

Day by day, my life began to change. First, the changes were small. I noticed that with each small change the transformation sped up. Eventually, the self-growth reached critical mass, providing the impetus that led me to becoming the man I am today – university lecturer in social science, researcher, public speaker and humanitarian. Perhaps the most fulfilling change is that I am now a loved and cherished father and husband in a well-functioning family (well, most of the time anyway). All this, and to think, it all began the day I surrendered and chose to wave the white flag in utter defeat.

There was only one other thing, not previously mentioned, that I took with me on the day I left Greg Smith behind on that park bench: my sense of fashion. This included my long wizard-like beard. These were the last bastions of my old world and something inside of me just needed to hold onto them for a little while longer.

Enter, Delilah! It’s evident, to me, that Lennard Cohen knew exactly what I’m talking about, “She tied you to the kitchen chair she broke your throne and cut your hair and from your lips she drew the “hallelujah.” Where Greg Smith might have protested, Gregory P. Smith embraced the warmth, the love and all the sweet extras that came from being brave enough to surrender to what I had once believed defined me. Still, I wear the pants in our relationship! Catherine says she is okay with that, provided they’re a little more Hilfiger and a little less army disposal. Yes, dear! I can live with that x