I started a new ritual today. In the firepit are the remnants of 8 years of professional practice… I decided that it was time to start letting go. Rituals help us process changes that are already underway. This one also freed up some space.
A lot has changed. There is certainly more change ahead. This ritual honors what came before and what lies ahead. When I put each piece of paper into the fire, I practiced. Client records, class, workshop, retreat forms and flyers, newsletter sign-up, drafts of presentations, old policies, and insurance claims I touched one last time. I was letting go of the documents related to these experiences. The experiences themselves are imprinted on my mind and heart.
As a licensed healthcare provider, the law requires that I keep records for 7 years. I started Yoga for Mental Health in 2006. That’s 18 years worth of records, 11 more than I “need” to hold on to. Besides the emotional load, there’s some actual square footage there!
We’re in the midst of a massive, disruptive remodel at our house in Anchorage. Every inch of our living and work space is affected and I am acutely aware of space and stuff and the balance between the two. I can see, and feel more clearly the results of not letting go as I carry stuff from room to room and wonder, “why?”
My awareness is also mostly certainly affected by seeing, in such intimate ways, what a lifetime of not letting go can result in. I am still rocked by the wake of my parents’ deaths and the responsibility for the house that they lived in for 49 years.
A basket full of pocket protectors, a warped cutting board, a zippered pouch full of those pink plastic foam rollers, and their antiquated cousins made of wire and mesh were shoved farther and farther back into the closets and cupboards to make room for what came next. Every tax document, medical form, and eventually, once my dad was on his own, every utility bill, and advertisement that came into the house got stuck there.
Letting go is hard. Maybe holding on is easier, at least in the short term. All the stuff reminds us of who we were, who we are, who we’re supposed to be. It makes us real. If letting go means giving this up, why would we? Well, we get tired, and sometimes quite overwhelmed.
As I held each scrap of paper, prepared to drop it into the fire, and saw the names written on them, each of you precious beings came rushing back into the forefront of my consciousness, I was touched.
I wanted to hold on, to reach out, to see how you’re doing now and what is most important to you. I hoped that you got what I intended to give to you in our time together and that you felt loved and supported. I hope that you have forgiven me for my mistakes.
The truth is, by letting go of these records, I was letting go of the need to have those questions answered.
When we started cleaning out my parent’s house, the house that I grew up in, we confronted the surface layer of stuff: empty boxes of Del Monte and Jimmy Deans, Valupak envelopes, and plastic water bottles. It had been a while since anything that came in had found its way back out. The process of letting go, of anything, had become too much for my grieving dad. The question that remained was “Would it be too much for us too?”
As financial documents, baby books, and travel journals emerged there, the rituals that make a life were revealed. As each of us decided what we wanted to hold on to and what we wanted to let go of (the pocket protectors didn’t make the cut) we saw more clearly what we hold dear.
To walk mindfully together for a while, to share moments of connection, is what I realize my rituals honor. I took a coffee mug with turkeys on it home with me.
Letting go of the expectations of these moments allows space. All of the potential lies there to be expressed. I need practice. Expectations weigh heavy on my mind and heart. Freedom comes from letting go of them.
My family gathered last weekend in North Carolina, not New York. We are adapting. My parents would be so pleased. We are finding new rituals to honor our connections.
This fire ritual might work like that too. For each client and student whose name I saw on those documents that went into the fire… I touched the joy and honor of being with you. And, I am letting go of any expectation that there is unfinished business between us. The “case is closed.” You are free. Me too.
The house in New York is occupied by a different family now. We don’t need it anymore.
Practice letting go with simple rituals
Rituals for letting go can be profound, the ones that I’ve described sure were, or, they can be simple. I once heard one of the greatest spiritual teachers of our time, Pema Chödrön, suggest that if you are struggling with letting go you can practice handing a precious item from one hand to the other. It can be that simple.
It’s practice that makes rituals for letting go more accessible. I don’t know if I would have been so willing to burn those records if I hadn’t already experienced the freedom that is on the other side of letting go. I trusted that it would be there again. It’s true… it’s here.
The psychological difference of choice is not to be underrated. It is with courage and conviction that we can confront the inevitable. It makes a big difference when we boldly move towards that which we might otherwise prefer to avoid. We learn to see ourselves as capable and tolerant. When we practice letting go of what holds us back we can move forward.
Rituals to honor the importance of the correspondence, the day, the relationship, or anything else that we find ourselves stuck in… can help us find freedom. Honor yours. On behalf of all beings, thank you for your practice.
