Let Go: A practice


3 min read
02 Jul
02Jul

The last couple of days I have been sleeping the sleep of the righteous. Deep, solid sleep, in which I close my eyes and wake up eight-ten hours later. My body and mind have needed it. Yesterday, I took a nap at one p.m. after I slept until ten. My mind has needed the rest, and I have gladly allowed myself to let go. 

As adults, we have a hard time with the concept of letting go. I find myself during readings having to describe step by step how to let go, because we are so unfamiliar with it. It is almost as if our mind won't let it happen. We are so consumed with "shoulds." 

"I should work out today"

"I should make those cookies for my kids"

"I should call my parents"

"I should eat something healthier than take-out." 

How many of those are actually needs? How many of those do we actually WANT to do? We need to eat, we need to sleep, but the rest can easily be let go if we give ourselves permission. That seems to be the problem though: we do not give ourselves permission to be. We see others around us and feel we have to match their stamina or parenting. Our comparisons to others put even more pressure on us to perform tasks that in reality, do not NEED to be done. 

I don't NEED to take my son to the zoo, no matter how much he loves animals or how many times he asks. 

I don't NEED to answer that text from my friend RIGHT NOW. 

I don't NEED to make a homemade meal, especially if I'm exhausted and know it's going to take more energy to cook than it would be to go grab something. Is it a perfect scenario? No. But, it allows my mind and body to rest. That's what I need.

That's why, after I got back at 2am yesterday from Chicago (thank you delays!) I slept until 10am. My husband had one request yesterday: figure out dinner. About 2:30 p.m. after my nap and realizing that nothing productive was going to happen, I decided that take-out would be the easiest solution to dinner. So, when my husband called me on his way home to ask what was for dinner, I frankly told him that dinner was solved, but he had to pick it up. He was happy with just having food, my kids ended up having Mcdonalds, and we were all in bed by 8. In the end, it didn't matter that I essentially did nothing yesterday. In fact, it helped set me up for today for being more rested (but still exhausted.) 

We NEED to allow ourselves to just be, in whatever capacity that may be. 

On the train this weekend heading up to the North end of Chicago, I watched people. Most had headphones on, moving their head to music only they could hear. Others had their laptops out and were busy clicking away. The rest were scrolling aimlessly on their phone. No one was just sitting, allowing themselves to be caught up in the sounds of the train, the sights of the city passing them by. I had brought my keyboard to answer a waiting "one question" but I couldn't bring myself to break it out. Instead, I stretched my feet out, admired the train tracks outside my window, and felt my excitement at meeting my friends for breakfast as each stop brought me closer and closer.Almost as if she was sensing my awareness, my friend texted me information about the stops I was passing. I felt like a tour guide was sitting next to me, and I smiled with renewed awareness as we entered the suburbs. 

This time I spent touching base with whatever I was feeling helped set me up for the long day of readings I had in front of me. I needed the moments of quiet, and I felt recharged. 

We don't NEED to be on our phones all of the time. Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram are all going to be there whenever you get to it. The news is still going to keep on reporting. Emails will continue to buzz in. It's okay to take a break from it all. But, we feel odd when we do, don't we? Almost as if we suddenly are out of the loop of the world that goes so quickly now.

I remember on one of our trips we didn't have internet. One day on the cruise we were on, I heard passing conversations that Prince had died. By evening, it seemed to be the majority of the conversation on the ship. Instead of grabbing my phone, I just talked to people who had heard. 

On another trip, my husband and I were headed into Florence and Pisa for the day when I got a, "ding" on my phone. My friend back in the U.S. was letting me know there were bad earthquakes the night before in Italy, and was making sure I was alright. We hadn't felt the earthquake on the ship (or most likely, we had been asleep) but I trusted that if it was unsafe to head into Florence, the tours would have been cancelled. The earthquakes were tragic, but it would have done no good (especially for my anxiety) to read all about the horrific earthquakes and the number of people that had sadly lost their lives the night before. If I had been connected, I would have most likely refused to leave the (relative) safety of the ship, and missed out on a wonderful day. 

There is such a thing as "too" connected. 

This past weekend, I had big plans to post on my facebook page and my Instagram all about my readings and my clients. I wanted to capture things that I felt were missing: clients talking about what it's like to have a reading on Facetime, clients talking about what an in-person reading is like, even recording a podcast. However, nothing happens the way we plan. My plane ended up getting delayed three hours getting into Chicago. I made it to the Intuitive Party more than an hour after my first reading was scheduled. I rushed in and immediately started with my clients that were happily still waiting. By the time the readings were finished, it was almost midnight. I gave my friend (and former client) who hosted the party a huge hug and we laughed about the day. I didn't get to record a video of her speaking about her experience of a facetime reading, and the video we did record both of us were so exhausted that it didn't make much sense. It was what was meant to happen, regardless of what I wanted. In fact, it turned out more special than I could have expected. In one of the readings, something extremely Spiritual and "Real" happened- one that even had me going, "Woah." As I sadly said good-bye, I recall thinking, "if I didn't do another reading the rest of my life, this would be enough." 

That's letting go. 

The next day, I said another tearful good-bye to another client turned friend after another successful day of readings. We stood on the train platform. I put my head on my friend's shoulder and she put her arm around me. Even though I had just met her in person that morning, our bond over the past few months was evident. I didn't have my phone and she didn't have hers. We shared a moment of friendship and kinship. As I stepped on the train a minute later a tear escaped my eye. 

That is letting go. 

That evening my friend Kristen (also a client turned friend) treated me to dinner. For dessert, I splurged and ordered a thirty-year-old Port and creme brulee. I recall thinking of my heritage, and I raised my glass to my ancestors as I took the first sip. The Port was smokey and fragrant. I could taste the different notes: cinnamon, raisins. Kristen cracked the creme brulee' and we both took a spoon to taste. The creme brulee' tasted like caramel, and the notes of vanilla were pure. I closed my eyes. 

That is letting go. 

On the flight home from Chicago I sat next to a service dog and his owner. The owner mentioned the dog Maxx, was extremely sensitive to emotions. After only nine hours of sleep the entire weekend and not having an emotional release from the 18 + readings, I was a nervous wreck. We went through turbulence and I put my head down on the tray table. Tears fell down my cheeks. I felt a small wet nose nudging my arm. I pushed Maxx away gently, not wanting to take him away from his responsibilities with his owner. He nudged me again. I glanced over at his owner and noticed she was peacefully sleeping, but the dogs eyes were on me. I sighed and started to pet him, my head still on the tray table. He wiggled next to me, nuzzling me. The next thing I knew, an announcement was coming on that we were getting ready to land. I looked over at Maxx, who was wedged between me and his owner. I had fallen asleep.

That is letting go.

When I got home on Monday morning at 2 a.m., I fell into bed. My son snuggled in next to me, my husband on the other side of him gently touched my wrist. I closed my eyes: safe, loved, needed, wanted. 

That is letting go.

Letting go is different for everyone. Sometimes it's being around people. Sometimes it's being alone. Sometimes it's emotionally and it comes out physically- sobbing, shaking, a hard cry. It might be silence. It might be telling someone how you feel. Get to know how you let go and practice doing it regularly. 

Letting go allows to us to do the things we want- like taking our kids to the zoo or make a healthy dinner. It allows us the choice in prioritizing. When we are unable to let go, anger boils up. We are unable to sleep. We fight with people. We feel guilt. We feel sadness. Don't let yourself get to this point. 

As for me, I'm still taking it easy. I'm petting my dogs a whole lot, and giving my son lots of hugs. This morning my husband and I forgoed working out and instead just cuddled in together.  I even had the energy this morning to answer a waiting one question. My needs right now involve emotionally healing from the emotions I took on in Chicago. I was glad to do it, and I am grateful so many people trusted me to bring me into their lives. But, I am glad to be home. 

Let go a bit today, and allow yourself to feel home- wherever and whatever it may be. 

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