I received one of those Giving Keys. They come with instructions, “embrace your word, then pay it forward to a person you feel needs the message more than you.” Cool.
My key is, “Let it go.” Yes, I still have it. Yes, I still need to let go. Damn key.
When I received it, I started to cry an “ugly cry” that threatened to overwhelm me. I had to fight the wave of emotion. I could barely share with the others in my group what my key said. I even asked someone to read it for me. Ultimately, I did read it, once I gained control over myself again.
But it was too late.
The key was in the lock and it had started to turn, creating a leak.
Receiving this key made me realize that I was holding back – holding on to everything, trying to control everything. Trying to be perfect, trying to excel, trying to get so much shit done, fighting exhaustion, just keeping going and going.
Ironically, this key makes me itchy. It reminds me it’s there. No rash, just itchy.
I took it off for a bit. I needed a break from reminding me to let go.
And when I put it back on, itchy once more.
Thanks, Alanis Morrissette for chiming in with “Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think? A little too ironic. Yeah, I really do think.”
Today I am letting go.
I am writing.
I am writing and writing and writing until there is no more in me.
I need to let my words out. They help me let go.
I have already “dance it out” to help release the energy, the sadness that was pent up. But dancing just doesn’t let it all out. I need more. I need to share my words.
I love words. I love consuming them. I don’t love sharing them.
I fear reprisals. I fear upsetting others. I fear being seen, truly seen.
I fear being truly understood. What would happen if someone really knew me?
What if I really asked for what I wanted – all of it, not just some of it? What if I really went for it and lived my life out loud and in the open. If I let go and shine for the whole world to see?
I fear they would use it against me – to hurt me. That they’d piss on my parade and try to dim my sparkle to make themselves feel more comfortable, more adequate. That’s been my experience anyway.
I know some people who truly see others – they build them up. I marvel that these people even exist.
It is ironic that this necklace makes me itchy. Because letting go makes me so damn uncomfortable.
And I know better. I truly know that I actually control nothing.
Change is constant in this world. Nothing stays the same. It’s a blessing and a curse because all things are fleeting. You can have joy but it doesn’t last. You experience pain too and it also doesn’t last. The Wheel of Fortune is constantly turning.
Some days I am just trying to hang on.
I close my eyes and breathe. Let go…
I see angels all around us helping us along the way. Shouldering our burdens together makes it lighter. But you have to share it first. You have to let it go.
You have to say take this, help me carry it. Or better still say good-bye to it, release it, burn it, dissolve away the obligation that you must carry it yourself.
There’s that nagging thought again… I should be working. I should be cleaning. I should be doing something productive that moves me forward.
But what if what I am doing right now, writing this, is what I should be doing? What if my words are my purpose? Well shit, that makes me cry. I suppose we hit a nerve with that one.
Let’s follow that.
What if my words are my purpose. I will have to release them and let them go. Let them be what they are, to be received however they are. That is not my thing to control I cannot control how my words are received. I must let them go. Let them be what they are and not trust that they will do what they must in this world.
Oh, there will be those that do not like what I have to say… but there will be those that need my words. I must share them for that is my purpose. My words are my purpose.
I must let them go.
I must allow that which is inside me to see the light of day.
They have been growing roots beneath the surface, gathering nutrients and resources and energy, but soon it will be time to let go and break the surface.
And risk being seen as a seedling coming into the light. All tender and new. Fragile. Open. Optimistic.
Oh, how I can grow. I know I have the potential but I must let go. Allow my shell to crack so that I can set out roots and then find my way to the light where I can soak up the sun and rain and grow and thrive and make this world a more beautiful place simply by being in it.
Writing is magic, ideas are magic. Thank you, Elizabeth Gilbert. For today I have opened myself to the idea that has been visiting me and knocking on my door.
I close my eyes to see if there is more to let go. I feel around for it.
Why am I so scared to let go? Do I need to know the answer to be able to do it?
Letting go is something you do. Could it be a way of being too? Like being open?
Like opening your hands and arms in a “v”, palms up to the sky? Like saying to God, take this from me and do what needs to be done with it. Inspire me to know how to move next, say next, do next. Let the ideas come … ah, for that I must be open.
I must be open so that I can receive. And I cannot receive if I am clutching to things or ideas as if they are mine to have. They are not mine. They move through me, but they are not mine. They are ours. They belong to humanity and our very existence. My story is not mine. It is ours. WE share it because we are human.
Let it go.
Like an orange helium balloon floating up into the sky carrying a note to a special angel in Heaven. I love you. Can I release my love too? Can I let it go without judgment?
What am I holding onto?