Tuesday, February 9, 2016

The Art of Letting Go

My name is Grace and I live in my imagination.

Gosh, I can be so cutting. I can make assumptions when I know better, when I know not to, when it would be best to wait and see. Yes, I can be stupid, too.

Sometimes, it's just the hurt talking. Actually, it's the hurt and pain that talk most of the time. I don't know how to turn them off. I shouldn't verbally vomit all over everyone. It's unfair and no one cares. Men and women are so different. A woman's mind can go to places she's never been before, to the furthest corners of the earth, corners she has no business traveling to. I can be so black and white. I fail to see the grey areas. It's something I need to work on. I ought to be using all of that energy to create poems and stories and not to bring myself down. I have no trouble taking my own sense of hope away. When I feel hopeless, it's because of me and nobody else. So, if I put myself there, I can surely take myself out of it...in a single swoop...with a change in perception and attitude.

That's what communication can do, too. Words can clear away the confusion. They have the power to do that. I'm glad. I feel bad and sorry for the nasty thoughts I had, day in and day out. I'm better than all of that. Still, I falter. I need to accept people where they're at and not where I want them to be. I need to stop taking everything so personally. I'm not the center of anyone's universe and nor should I be.

I'm not the type to throw dishes across the room when I'm upset. I just walk away. I've always just walked away. I wish I could say I didn't look back because I've always looked back, too. But, with disdain. I'm not as forgiving as I believe myself to be...

I lived like a hermit these past two months. I even stayed away from my favorite neighborhood cafe, a place I'd go to relax and unwind. How things change. When I felt the urge to take a walk outside, my mind stepped in and said, "You need to rest." And so I did. I felt happy with the rise of the sun and as it hid behind the clouds, I felt myself go down, down, down, into the abyss. And that's when I prayed. It wasn't even intentional. I just found myself saying the words. I wish they all didn't begin with, "Please, help me."

Saturday morning was a little different. I sat on the couch, cross legged, watched the rays through an opening in the curtains and I didn't use my mind to connect this time. It was more from the heart. The sensation was quite distinct. I had a heart to heart with myself, I suppose. My prayer rolled off my tongue, the words unhindered, unspoiled. Even I had to step back to contemplate the words that had come from deep within. I shed a few tears and made sure to end it all with a smile. I guess you can say that I was feeling desperate. I dislike the taste of despair. I must have surrendered to a moment, though, because I saw I had no choice but to accept things exactly as they are and I'm telling you, it's only painful when you resist or when you hang on, when you want something so badly, you sabotage any good that can come out of a simple letting go. Do you know how much power there is in letting go? How much energy is wasted on hanging on, needlessly? That's when the light comes in because the act of letting go creates an opening. It's not enough to know this in the mind. If it was, we would have all let go when it was required for us to let go, minus all the unnecessary heartache and pain. It's experienced through the heart and sensed in the body.

It's not about avoiding pain or guarding oneself. That's still rooted in fear. Sometimes, what we want isn't what we need. Sometimes, they're just not the same. You can only start where you're at so there's no point in judging yourself. It's difficult to be compassionate with oneself, that's for sure. I guess what I'm saying is that moment on the couch was an experience of peace. I was at peace. I was okay. I had what I needed. I was exactly where I was supposed to be and for the first time, in a long time, I paid attention. I wasn't distracted by this or that thought. I was reaching as far as I could, as deeply as I could with the tools that I had and I did pretty good. And, with Great Help! I exhaled. I had finally exhaled and what a relief it was...