Sooner or later....Let go. Let give. Let be.

What is it about the way the sun shining makes all things feel less weighted in sorrow? Why does the bird sing out in the rain? I’ve never been more sure that this world is busting open with beauty and miraculous energies to balance the horrific and sad and inevitable. Those truths are so abundantly apparent; I have trouble explaining them to most people when we are living in the smallness of our neurosis and inner-world perspectives.

A strange thing happened this autumn. Maybe it was just time, or perhaps turning thirty-eight without a soul near by to celebrate. I don’t know how or why, but I see the clarity as if in a high-definition that is also low resolution because the fuzzy and natural lens of how I see the world is and always will be about choosing what to focus on.

I came out of a meditation recently and these six words were stuck in my head: 

"Let go. Let give. Let be." 

Sooner or later, you are struck by something so tragic and deeply devastating that your soul bounces off the bottom of your heart as if landing on a trampoline flailing and loose because the fall was so far. This is a good thing, because rigid doesn’t grow. Stifled doesn’t seem to sense the wonder all about us. The fall, which leads to the bounce in gelatinous, surrender of energy and inertia is what it takes to let go, and see who you are.

Sooner or later, the people you once thought were your “tribe” and family will betray, lie, or disappoint you to the point of near exhaustion, and you’ll decide that you still have a choice. Blood, nor address or children’s similar ages are defining ties to keep you working at it. No, love and support and the general acceptance of your truest self, unhindered and honest is the only tie that will bind when you let go, and see who you are when the people you surround yourself with are also who they are.

Sooner or later, the contents of your heart become non-debatable. No longer will you be defined by the actions those judging eyes of "others" have unsolicited commentary on.

Mistakes are made by all of us. Love and growth  are the ability to find compassion, humor and softness in the mess.  Most "others" wouldn't fair well in the molten heat of owning their secrets, wrong-doings and shadows. This is why living out one's mess to live on is revered. Even if only by the very few others who know what it takes to muddy yourself and be met with zero pity or empathy and still climb out for all to see the humiliation and sludge on you. Those same people understand that "martyr" is easier a role to play along with victim. Yet, to be silently both and still push to be better and smile anyway is the hardest thing anyone does. It is only when you let go of needing people to see your strife, struggle and strength that you see who you are.

Sooner or later, forgiveness is not something you choke on or use as power. Instead it flows from every fiber of your being, because BEING is so fragile a concept that forgiveness is a necessity for YOU, not others. Only after forgiving all the wrongs, can you see who you are when you feel right by your heart’s standards.

Sooner or later, the noise of peers claiming to categorize you will be muted by your own integrity to not care. Whether wearing a clearance sale maxi-skirt and fake eyelashes, sweatpants and thirty extra pounds or a Valentino suit with a broken self-esteem, you will not judge anyone by outward appearance . Only by truth in actions pertaining specifically to you, or  how you feel around those different packages of innately loving souls. We all want to be loved and love. The packaging and lack often skew the appearance of such. 

Sooner or later,  you pull up the self-acceptance that has been gathered and slack around your ankles since middle school and one arm at a time stretching into- not out of the sleeves.  An audible sign accompanies the comfort and beauty of self-love and the truth-suit of your soul. Only then, and hopefully sooner than later, you know who you are and need not to sell it, defend it, explain it, or push others to accept it. You do. You know. You matter. 

That…is what happened this autumn, and I sit in a strange but quiet joy laughing at all the momentous events of this year that came and went without celebration or support. Why wouldn’t this? 

Silence is golden, and golden is a choice that takes a lot of ugly black, grey and absence of color to finally see.