Resistance, Surrender & Perfect Alchemy.

Deep down in the black department of my soul, I’m twisted. I enjoy pain so much.

It’s like my secret elixir that keeps me going, seeking. My feelings: intense, desperate, viscerally deep and aching, alive

If it’s getting too comfortable, I morph into a lazy, slow, dull version of myself that’s pretty boring and doesn’t do any good. No inspiration, no drama, what’s the point?

That’s why I need pain; I’m addicted to suffering. Nothing else keeps me busy and consumed, granting full access to my psyche, the mysteries of the Universe, parallel realms and sources of otherworldly wisdom, to the abysses where my gold is hidden.

I dive into the depths burning my soul again and again. Until eventually only the essence will remain — my incombustible core. It’s called Alchemy.

And my sure-fire tool for fueling this process, for keeping the heat at the highest level possible, is resistance.

The saying goes that already at my birth I resisted while entering this world. I had an utter aversion against life. I refused to be fed. I didn’t take milk, nor tea, nor water. I went pro in taking no shit right from the start.

I might have taken it too seriously, practiced this skill too excessively, but I could sense even back then that I was sent here on Earth to accomplish great things. 

Like getting several highly decorated degrees in having no clue, but rejecting any advice and authority. I can’t stand it when someone just knows what I should do, how I should live my life, my life! So I earned my doctorate degree in“No!” (I’m fluent in all kinds, flavors and expressions of No, my specialty is passive-aggressive rebellion).

Even now, when I’m broke, stuck, depressed, I still manage to hold my head up high, thoroughly maintaining my hard-earned level of resistance. This dark pervert part in me has the lead, still. It is crazy, mad, irresponsible, but so fucking strong and powerful; it’s holding the reins of my life with an iron fist.

It also has a counterpart, a nice and reasonable one, which is fully aware of the enormousness of the disaster which I am poignantly, lovingly calling my life, and which is begging me on sore knees to take the next step. It’s not telling me to stop, because it’s smart, this begging bugger.

What it is doing instead is trying to lure me with a challenge: I don’t have to give up being an Alchemist, but I could climb higher on the ladder and refine my technique. Alchemizing resistance into surrender.

Dude, Universe! Me? Letting go of resistance?

am high-end resistance in person!

I know, I know… this process would be all the more rewarding because of it. Because, I guess, the result, coming from this pure and concentrated form of resistance, would be the most complete, soft, melted liquid golden surrender the world has ever seen.

Although I know how big the reward (sadly, trying to motivate me with promising rewards never evoked my interest, but pain works well quite often… of course), whenever I try to just make a resolution to choose surrender instead of resistance… Boom! Some area in my life gets shattered into pieces, making sure I’m going to stay in this place of deliciously lucid pain.

Who would voluntarily want to leave this behind for surrender? I don’t know surrender — who can tell whether it’s worth to let the suffering go? After all, I’m proud of my high-quality resistance! It’s all I’ve really got.

I think in fact I do know surrender. I’m even brilliant at it. I’ve totally surrendered my life to resistance, a source of pain that’s never going to run dry; the work of a genius. Mastering what seems like paradox.

Perfect Alchemy: in resistance I surrender.



LinaBoldtLina Boldt is a seeker, healer and writer, she has a Ninja-warrior survival record, and can often be found in the thick of deep transformational work, which made her gain quite some expertise in breakdowns and breakthroughs. Her current mission is all about surrender, and she can’t live without chocolate. You can connect with her on Facebook.


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