WOWWBLOG #64: The Spiral and the Surrender: How I Learned to Hold My Plans Lightly and My Purpose Firmly

At 67, I have discovered that the frameworks I build are not walls—they are scaffolding for the soul's unfolding

WHAT: The Architecture of a Life

I have a confession to make.

I am a compulsive planner. I map my life, my work, my years in advance—quarterly, monthly, weekly, daily, and sometimes in the quiet moments when afflictive emotions arise and I feel them so palpably in my body.

When that happens, I have learned to stop.

Take a breath.

Observe the interplay of breath, body sensations, emotions, and thoughts. In that spacious awareness, I rest.

Then, when confusion and overwhelm threaten to throw me off course, I return to my "Why." I revisit my stated purpose for living and examine if it still makes sense - “co-creating one world, well and whole.” I return to my Vision Board and my Ikigai—that four-leaf clover of purpose. And I return to my personal 4-F framework that underpins all of my existence.

Imagine four concentric circles. Or better yet, a spiral.

From the innermost circle—Faith—flowing outward to Fitness, then Family, and finally resulting in Fruitful Stewardship.

These are not just tools. They are implementable frameworks—practical, lived across close to 7 decades, and tested through the crucible of 16 years of serving clients, hundreds of organizations, and thousands of individuals. They are the containers I have co-created, the new patterns that shift in purposive directions when diverse people come together to decide where they want to go, why this is important, how to get there, and how they know they are already there.

And yet.

SO WHAT: The Streams Beneath the Waves

As I write this, I am aware that all of this—the planning, the frameworks, the careful architecture—might be an illusion I am reinforcing. A stream of moment-by-moment experiences. And a bigger stream—or perhaps waves—that are simply more visible manifestations of those little vibrations of moment-to-moment where everything changes.

Anicca. As Goenkaji of Vipassana Meditation always says.

This last week has been another unique combination of experiences: a 3-day online Zen Sesshin (retreat), a series of conversations that are like different threads to a bigger story writing itself in real time, smaller project meetings, the TLC core team's strategic planning around our emergent Integral 2030 Strategy, no-fixed-agenda conversations within the IDG Transition Working Group, and whole-day workshops—one on “Leading and Communicating Change,” another on becoming a "Globally Adaptive Leadership."

As I sit in the spaces between energetic action and contemplation—the yin and yang, the doing and being—I feel so deeply blessed. Gratitude swells in my heart.

And somehow, I am able to willfully accept—no, perhaps "surrender" is the better word—the fleeting pains and heartaches, the fears and dread of not really knowing what is next, the aloneness in the midst of a noisy crowd. All of the such-ness and is-ness of life beyond birth and death.

Ah, how wonderful to be 67 and alive in this stage of human history. Born in the late Industrial era (1958), just 12 years after World War II, when there were no televisions in the mountains of Benguet. Grew up in the Information Age (1970s–2010), when rock music captured the state of my soul. And still live—and eventually die (assuming average life expectancy of 73–80)—in the Age of AI.

I am reminded of a passage from Desiderata, written by Max Ehrmann in 1927:

"Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."

And this line, which I have carried with me for decades:

"With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world."

NOW WHAT: The Return to the Spiral

Do you think a poem I wrote when I was 14 also makes sense to add to my blog?

Just an excerpt—written just before I entered a drug rehabilitation center, where I stayed for 2.5 years:

"Everything is lost, my mind is blown apart,

I cannot cope, I cannot think.

I recall the warmth of the past,

so beautiful, so mellow,

I search, I cannot find."

I was 14. I was lost. I was searching for something I could not name.

Decades later, I have frameworks. I have purpose. I have a spiral of Faith, Fitness, Family, and Fruitful Stewardship.

And yet, I am still searching. Still surrendering. Still returning to the spacious awareness that holds all of it—the planning and the letting go, the doing and the being, the frameworks and the mystery.

So here is what I have learned:

1. Build frameworks, but hold them lightly.

· Action: Create your own 4-F framework—or 5, or 3. Name what matters most. Use it as a compass, not a cage.

· Why: Frameworks give us direction. Surrender gives us peace. You need both.

2. Return to your "Why" regularly—not as a chore, but as a homecoming.

· Action: Schedule a quarterly "Why" check-in with yourself. Revisit your Vision Board, your Ikigai, your deepest purpose. Ask: "Does this still resonate? What needs to shift?"

· Why: The world changes. You change. Your "Why" is not a fixed point—it is a living, breathing relationship.

3. Practice sitting in the spaces between.

· Action: Between meetings, between projects, between breaths, pause. Just for a moment. Feel the space between the action and the contemplation. Let it hold you.

· Why: The yin and yang are not opposites. They are a dance. The spaces between are where the music lives.

4. If you wrote poetry as a young person, revisit it.

· Action: Dig up old journals, poems, or letters. Read them with compassion. Notice the threads that connect your younger self to who you are now.

· Why: You were searching then. You are searching now. The search is not a sign of failure—it is a sign of being alive.

I close with the words of Max Ehrmann, which have guided me through many seasons:

"Be cheerful. Strive to be happy."

And I add my own, born from the spiral of Faith, Fitness, Family, and Fruitful Stewardship:

The frameworks we build are not walls. They are scaffolding for the soul's unfolding. They hold us as we grow. And when the time comes, we let them go.

-Susan Grace Rivera

Posted on: August 16, 2026