Letting go, oh how I love to do it! How many times do you hear yourself or someone say that? Probably not all that often. It's hard to let go and in fact I don't generally do it without some hemming or hawing. Last year I packed up my studio and put my life in storage. A pretty traveled person to that point I had no idea what would come next, how deeply this last year would be affected by this one decision and its required acts. Living with decisions can be hard sometimes. Each major decision is the beginning of a process, a new turn on the journey. Nothing is assured except for a deepening of the change.
Not too long ago I was staring at the boxes of my life. I came to them after a year of nomad life. It wasn't the type of life I thought it would be. It was full of walks in new places and the filling of my experience with new voices and groups. It was a time where I was also incredibly lonely sometimes and blissfully alone at others. So, as I stared at the boxes and then handled a few things, the books I love, the flower vases that I once filled carefully, I almost felt as if these were the things of a lifetime ago. I don't have much and what I keep in my life I choose carefully, but even these chosen things were somehow no longer me or even indicative of me. It was as if I had died and I was viewing my things saying, "Wow, I remember that time...." I found myself smiling at candle holders and lanterns, remembering how carefully I'd built my humble existence, filling it with practical objects of beauty.
Time goes on and I'm still very much alive. I have planted flowers in other people's gardens, tended their trees and walked their dogs. I've spent time talking to random strangers and comparing their views on life, joy and freedom. I have become, to some extent, my own little phoenix. The things that remain are very few. There is my love and there is the moment. There is openness and renewed dedication to concepts, disciplines and to the day when I might stop wandering. Maybe though, I'll never really stop. Or maybe once I stop, I'll have to start again. Right now, it's all up in the air and I gauge my physical movement as a part of a cycle. We're here to evolve, to move and to stretch. We're here to love and be compassionate. For some of us that means we become pillars of society, helping to bond and to plan so that greater communities can thrive and improve. These people spread their roots in a way that I envy since I have found my path is one where the roots must reside inside of me. Maybe my role is to remain fluid, less like the full grown tree and more like the seed spreading out in the wind. I'm sure this path won't give me everything I ever wanted, but I'm pretty convinced it will give me everything I ever needed.
Life is short and richly bittersweet. In letting go of who I was I am gaining a better sense of who I am in the present. This, can only be a good thing.