Acceptance has never been one of my strong suits. I, honestly, don't have a laid-back bone in my body. I've always found pride in being driven, being a hard worker, being creative and in my ability to get shit done. For years, I shushed away the idea of acceptance, seeing it more akin to apathy, weakness or powerlessness. Don't get me wrong, I knew acceptance was important; many great teachers have spoken about it. It's one of those Big Topics that seems to be required for spiritual maturity, personal transformation, and for being a decent human being. But secretly, I didn't want to accept that I had to accept. (I told you: stubborn.)
The Universe, knowing me and my tenacious ways, had other plans for me and over time relentlessly upped the ante (divorce, losing all my money, single parenthood, blind dates) until I either had to spontaneously self-combust or surrender into acceptance. Under duress, I chose the latter. And I'm so glad I did. I'm a few years into my acceptance practice, and I now see that I resisted acceptance because I didn't understand what it really meant, and how profoundly it would change my life (in a good way)...