Further Lessons in Letting Go

The season of Festivus is upon us.  Have you noticed that sleigh bells ring every time the television comes on?  And as I write this, emails flow steadily into my Inbox – announcing Cyber Monday deals.

I’m already longing for December 26 when the ads fade away and we go back to the normal besieging and beseeching to spend, spend, spend.

And as a backdrop to all of this, CK finds herself in the midst of two challenging family situations that trigger all kinds of responses to engage, get involved, do something, move things forward.

And in both instances, the situations are not CK’s to manage.  Oh my.  Not Mine.  What to do?

Of course, like most of us, CK knows the answer to the What To Do question.  Nothing.  Not Mine.

‘But…’ says my ego, my mind, my heart ‘he needs help,’ ‘she’s not fully aware,’ ‘I could…’  ‘Maybe I should….’

And still, the voice beneath all of the chatter, clatter and machinations of the mind:  ‘NOT MINE.’

I love these people, these family members.  I love them in different ways – one is closer to me than the other, one is in a different stage of life’s experiences than the other.  I have wisdom I can share, I have knowledge I can impart, I have tools, resources, medicines I can offer.  NOT MINE.

How do we learn to hold space for evolution, growth, transition, healing – without jumping in and taking over, imposing our ideas, inflicting a healing?  We learn to Let Go.

Four years ago my father passed away quite suddenly.  In a whirlwind period of about 16 hours, my father checked in to a hospital and passed away.

The grief was immeasurable.  I missed him immensely (and still do – he was a really great person).  We rallied around my mother, did what we could to support her transition from wife to widow.  And then we each returned to our individual lives, nursing our grief individually.  The heaviness that I carried as I processed my loss was intolerable at times.  At other times it mercifully faded to the background so that I could have some respite from the weight of my sadness.

Weeks went by.  The sadness remained.

Until one day I prepared to sit at my altar and meditate.  I made a cup of tea, and as I steeped the herbs and awaited the time to transfer the tea from pot to mug, I silently asked the Universe what I needed to do to be relieved of the heavy grief and move forward.

Two words flew into my conscious awareness:  LET GO.

So CK Let Go.  Sitting at the altar, inviting the release, CK Let Go.  And the energy left – pulsing down and out of my field.  Rooted to the cushion, I surrendered the energy and it left my field.  Within about 15 minutes, the grief was gone.  Permanently.

Imagine how much CK learned about letting go in that moment.  Imagine that CK had the audacity to think she now knew about letting go.

Know that CK is back at her altar, learning more about letting go.  It’s a process, you know.

I’ve raised a child; he’s now 25 and in his own life and sets of choices.  Year after year, I let go.  Of his babyhood, his childhood, his teenhood, his early adulthood.  He graduated college and I gave him the reins of his life.  My mother role shifting to support resource, sage – when invited and asked.  The rest of the time – observer, friend, admirer.  It’s easy to be in both roles when my son is thriving, which is his reality most of the time.  When he’s challenged, I learn more about Letting Go.  Not Mine.

 

I have an aging mother with many of the challenges of old age.  Our ways of being are very different, and I hold no legal responsibility for her care or her process.  The challenges arise and decisions are made.  I see the world and her through a different set of lenses.  My input is not actively sought and the philosophical differences generate miles of distance between what I would do to support her and what is actually done.  I sit at my altar and practice Letting Go.  Not Mine.

So as the Hallmark commercials spin their fantasy family festivus feats and we all contemplate the reason for the season – whatever we believe the reason to be, consider Letting Go.  Surrendering.  Open-handed Release.  Sit at your altar, your shrine, your mesa and invite the lessons and the lovelies that emerge from Letting Go.

And keep your vital energy flowing as you do all that Let Go-ing!