I've been spending some time reading blogs again this morning and there seems to be a common thread running through many of them. It's all about goal-setting and accomplishment. This is so foreign to my way of thinking now that I felt a bit gobsmacked by it.

Then I got to thinking....

Our individual approach to living an authentic or satisfying life seems to depend a lot on our stages of life.

In my own case, I deal with a physical and emotional framework that is much older than my chronological years. This, combined with such a tiny income drastically limits the scope of what is possible to accomplish, of all the things one might wish to do or goals one might want to pursue.

For a long time, I ranted and railed about the unfairness of my differences. Why couldn't I be like others? Why couldn't I value what it seemed everyone else values so intently? Why couldn't I care about the hunt and gather World Series that so many devote their lives to? Why couldn't I care more about "stuff", owning it and acquiring it? (That's when I wasn't busy dogpaddling around in a pool of self pity!)

There comes a time when certain realities set in, no matter how hard we try, how many lists we write, or how hard we work to set and meet goals meant to help us "accomplish stuff."

Like aging. Disabilities. Chronic illnesses. Losses or financial insecurity that simply cannot be reversed, only absorbed and incorporated into the reality of our lives.

What has been useful to me in letting go is a very simple philosophy that was (somehow?) whispered into my ear when I realized my ability to sustain a "normal" pace was coming to an end. I had no means of support and I truly feared that if I stopped, I would either die or end up on the street. I was sitting under an oak tree at the time, when the words came to me...

"You already have all you need. Use what you have."

This made no sense at the time, yet has proven to be a truth so huge I can't even begin to describe it.

I'll settle for saying this: it was the beginning of a journey that instead of being focused outward, towards what I could/must/should still do or have in the external material world to a long journey inward that I had never taken before.

Once my familiar immersion in the external, material world was taken away and there was nothing left to do but journey inward, it would prove to be one hell of a ride!

Remember scavenger hunts or treasure hunts that children play? It was like that ~ in a way. Following hints and clues and random thoughts down one inner path after another, I discovered treasure after treasure I had totally missed during the years I spent struggling against an invisible monolith.

Most all of them were tiny, shiny bits of my original self that life had chipped off or that I had deliberately amputated and discarded as unacceptable to those in this world whose acceptance I thought I had to have.

I'd examine these shiny bits, collect them up, dust them off, to find where they fit into that authentic self I'd so long ago abandoned.

As this process continued, I discovered my very own truths and beliefs, as opposed to those that were so skillfully imposed upon me. They'd never felt much like my own but I also didn't see a real alternative.

Slowly I came to see I really needed none of what I'd lost materially or function-wise (or that which I thought had been taken from me by the fickle fingers of unfair fate!)

I still have "goals" but much differently defined than ever before. None of them reach beyond this one single moment in which I am breathing. And none of them have one bit to do with doing anything, only with being.

Because those whispered words are totally true for me.

I already have all I need. And I know how to use it.

So there's really nothing to "strive toward" anymore because it's already here.

This has been a long and difficult treasure hunt and it is far from over. One I would never have had, if I hadn't accepted the limitations of my own being, to realize that there are always choices and alternatives, that authenticity has its own value and that I no longer had to try to cram my being into boxes that no longer fit.
~*

Liturgy of the Hours

This week's question is about letting go. And I had to give it some thought.

My basic belief is that letting go is an organic process. Given that one statement, you probably won't even need to bother reading the rest of the post.

But...

Western culture, the culture I grew up in, attaches a lot of "shoulds" and time frames on letting go of things in our lives. Time becomes an enemy that chews us up and spits us out. It is about productivity over process.

The eastern perspective is a bit different. It views time as a gift and seeks to put it to good use rather than our being used up by it. There is time for everything. Time for the things that matter to us. Time for growth, prayer, reflection. I read in a book one time, and this stuck with me, that "You never finish anything in life and while that's humbling and frustrating, it's alright."

When the world is viewed as impermanent, all circumstances as impermanent, it becomes both easier and harder to let go of things. When we know something truly isn't coming back, there is no revisiting, it's a temptation to hold on.

And that's okay, too.

When we are ready, when we've gleaned all we can from an experience, we let it go. When it no longer serves us, truly no longer serves us, it drops off like a leaf from a tree.

Think about it. I'll bet you'll see exactly what I mean.

The concept of impermanence came easily to me. I don't always like it. Sometimes I fight against it. But I do understand it.

I come from a background filled with abandonment. I was unable to depend on anything today that would still be here tomorrow. I learned to never trust anything I didn't control.

And I created abandonment over and over again because we do that. We humans do that. Until we resolve a situation, one way or another, we will unconsciously re-create it.

So.. how did abandonment serve me?

It served me by allowing me to live a carefree life with no responsibilities to anyone or anything. Things came in and things went out. I was like the stoic observer, watching the river flow. It allowed me to be unhealthily detached from everyone and everything.

No expectations, no disappointments.

After a while, that became my motto in life. No expectations, no disappointments.

And it worked. It really worked.

Then the hollowness crept in. The sense of disconnectedness crept in when I looked around and realized my life was completely empty. I had to start doing things differently.

It meant a willingness to not let go. Whew! That was a hard one.

There was no timetable on it. There was no ritualized process. It was nothing someone else could do for me. It required little external guidance. It required internal willingness.

I'd come to a point where that way of life no longer served me.

It seemed to take care of itself as I took the risks necessary to allow a little bit of attachment into my life. Balanced. Balanced with the understanding that everything is impermanent.

So we become a kind of portal for life experience. In all of nature, everything recycles, including people. Loss, grief, the cycle of life itself.

As we begin to flow with that, we let go. We let go of the belief that we can control how the river flows. Because, after all, we can't.

We can be thankful for our life experiences or we can be resentful. That's a choice, both of them equally valid for different reasons. We can cling and make ourselves miserable. Sometimes that is what we need to do.

And when it no longer serves us, we let it go.


~*

Letting go....

Sometimes it's really hard to tell when it is time to let go, when the moment has come that it is appropriate and right.

I woke up in the middle of the night and knew the time had come to let my father go. (For those who haven't been reading here very long, my father committed suicide in April.) It hit me not like a lightening bolt but with an internal peace.

For the past few months, there has been a lot of emotional housecleaning to do. Between talking to members of my family, long estranged, and dealing with the disparity between their beliefs and mine, it has been a challenge to gather us together for the final stages of this passage.

In short, it hasn't been possible. We all have to do this our own way.

In the middle of the night, I crawled around in the garden and clipped enough flowers to make a garland. I came back inside and sat by candlelight to make it. Finally, I put on a black tunic, a white blouse and a black ankle-length skirt. I wore two of my amulets, both which have relevance for this kind of thing. Barefoot, I went back out to the gazebo, placed a candle, some incense and his picture on a makeshift altar within the garland. I lit the incense and the candle.

I got down on the ground and bowed, holding one stick of incense in my hands, palms together. I chanted and prayed for his peaceful passage into the spirit world. I also thanked him for trying to do the best he could for us, even with his limitations. In the final analysis, we all do the best we can, even when our best doesn't always produce the best outcome. I expressed my gratitude for the lessons learned, expressly or by default. Karma can be a difficult thing and the lessons are not always easy. Our path this time was not.

I burned the picture.

I sat in the dark for a while, holding the ashes. I put them in a small container. I honored the container, brought it into the house and put it on a high shelf.

Without bothering to get undressed, I got back in bed and went back to sleep.

Another passage complete. Another karmic lesson. For both of us.


Peace,


~Chani