Letting Go
Remember that trick where you stand in a doorway, arms by your side, palms facing in towards your body, and you extend your hands against the door frame and push and push and push? Then you step away and it’s as if your arms rise on their own?
That’s the feeling of letting go. Of acceptance. Of ease.
I am recognizing a lot my own resistance in life lately. The feeling of pushing, pushing, pushing and forgetting to step out of my own way and into ease. I get used to that feeling of resistance. I forget what it’s like to float, to step forward, to let everything unfold on its own.
As I work on settling into a new apartment in Cefalu, I’m reflecting on what a struggle it has been. Finding a place to rent year-round in a touristy location is no easy feat. It’s hard when your average real estate agent is more interested in chatting you up and sending kissy-face emojis than finding you an apartment. It’s even harder when you try to be an upstanding citizen and ask for a legally binding contract and all the landlords seem to think they shouldn’t have to pay taxes on their rentals. And it’s really hard when you finally get an apartment and have to carry twenty million boxes up four flights of very steep stairs in 90-degree weather at noon on a Wednesday while panicking that your car, which doesn’t lock, is parked illegally.
Pushing. Pushing. Pushing.
But here I am. And obstacles keep coming up. My landlord has already rented the apartment in October for two weeks and is making me clear out for those dates. There are 18 coffee cups and two entire eight-piece flatware sets in an apartment where it’s obvious you can’t sleep more than two people, let alone fit more than four. And I found out after pouring pancake batter into a hot pan that there’s no spatula around here. (Let’s be honest, that was the worst out of all these snafus.)
This is me resisting: I don’t want to leave my apartment in October. I don’t want to clear out someone else’s excess stuff from the house. I don’t want to have to try to flip a pancake with two spoons. I’d rather sit on the floor and cry. Which I used to do as a child but now I realize it’s much more comfortable to cry in the comfort of one’s bed than on the floor.
Pushing. Pushing. Pushing.
It’s time to let go.
I’m going to step out of everything that has happened in the past. Step forward knowing that some of that push was necessary to let things flow. Step forward knowing also that maybe I didn’t need to resist as much. Step forward knowing that my arms will rise, knowing things can be easy, knowing that, as a lovely client said the other day, “Trying my best, is my best.”
We are in a transitional moment. It’s that back to school vibe that September gifts us with no matter how old we are. We feel it in the light, the air, the weather as things shift, just slightly. It can be a challenging period, which is why it’s also a lovely time to make space for the ease.
I know that my apartment battles might not be over, but maybe I’m willing to let go of the work just for now. Perhaps the ease won’t come immediately in the housing arena, but I already feel it showing up elsewhere: in the support from friends, in new work opportunities, in rainbows on a Monday morning, shared meals, long swims, pancakes, and unexpected adventures.
It's time to let go. To step into it. To let it come after so much work. To embrace what happens naturally and marvel at the miracle of how things can unfold easily if we let them. I'm the first to admit that this is hard work. It means having faith in ourselves, in the outside world. It means being proud of the effort we've made while trusting that it's a mix of science and magic that let our arms float up so easily when we stop resisting.
Take a second today to wonder: Where are you putting all your effort? What are you resisting in life? Can you step forward just for a moment and let things flow with ease?
You might be surprised what turns up.
I have been.
Sending sunshine and a very happy reminder that Belonging, my community coaching group for women starts September 21st. I've reduced the number of participants and lengthened the sessions to 1 hour and 15 minutes to give us more time together. If you can't make it this time, reach out and let me know what schedule might work for you. Or set up a one-on-one call so we can chat.
With a smile,
Henna
PS: The photo is a little buddha with four faces of different expressions. I love him as a reminder that we can choose how to approach each day, and that no sadness, gladness, grief, or anger is constant.