The letting go intention box

Receiving is a gift to the giver. If we cannot receive, then we cannot truly give.
Let yourself gloriously and graciously receive.
~ SARK

I somewhat struggle with this. In a way giving is easier than receiving. It is easy for me to feel like I'm bothering others.

But when I think of it, this perception does the giver a disservice. If instead of feeling like a nuisance, I could focus the energy on gratitude towards the "giver", I believe it would be a more beautiful experience. For receiving is humility, receiving is grace and receiving allows you to be vulnerable.

So this week's intention is just that…to receive with grace.

Letting go…of the discomfort of letting go

It’s been a few weeks since I embarked on the “letting go journey”. And the more I try to let go, the more I’m aware of everything I’m holding on to. And to my dismay, there seems to be plenty of that.

I feel like I’ve opened a can of worms. A really really big can of worms with a never-ending bottom. I’m scared to peek in. There’s no knowing what else I will find. I may have scratched only the surface and wonder if I even want to scratch any further.

In my mind, I thought I was perhaps heading towards the elusive path of Zen. But the path seems nowhere in sight. Many forests, rivers, ravines and mountains must be crossed before I can even see the path. And I may never even get see it. Just knowing I tried may have to be enough.

Yes, letting go is not easy. It is a fairly uncomfortable and prickly process. No I’m not giving up – for after all, I don’t let go that easily, remember? But it does remind me of the teachings of meditation gurus who discuss the discomfort involved in meditation.

Goenka (Vipassana meditation) refers to meditation as a surgery. It is the opening up of emotions, memories and patterns within ourselves that we didn’t know existed. Facing them with equanimity is his wise advice. Pema Chodron talks about the whirring mind that we notice in meditation and the difficulty in calming it down.

So it seems like opening ourselves, sensing and seeing our emotions and patterns can be a painful process. And that is probably what I am encountering.

True, each time I have meditated I have felt this discomfort that they talk about. It is supposed to get easier with time and practice and the mind slowly learns to calm down. I have yet to experience that. But I’m in the hope that the “windows” of relief that they talk about will become doors and eventually open spaces of awareness.

And perhaps, the same will happen with letting go. The discomfort and difficulty involved in letting go will get easier. Staying put in the face of all this discomfort is perhaps all I need to do. And that’s all you will need to do - if you’ve joined this journey with me.

The letting go toolbox

In the book, "The Love Response," Dr. Eva Selhub introduces us to the “SHEILD” technique. Although I tend to find acronyms rather cheesy, this calming visualization may prove useful to cope with stressors in our life. What appealed to me most was the compassion with which the author suggested we treat our “fear response”. Here is a paraphrased version.   

S - Slow down and visualize a shield of loving, healing white light.

H - Honor your feelings, experiences, emotions, attitudes, and behaviors without judgment. Just observe as if you were a silent witness. Remember that they are pointing you to hidden wounds.

I - Inhale.

E - Exhale. This will deactivate the fear response and shift your physiology, so that you can become quiet enough to understand the root cause of your fear.

L - Listen to your thoughts, emotions, and sensations in your body as you ask the Big Four Questions:
>> Why am I reacting this way?
>> What wound from my past is this current situation reopening?
>> Why do I feel bad in this situation?
>> In what way is this situation reminding me that I am not enough or do not have enough? Listen to the answers and what your unconscious mind is trying to tell you.

D - Decide to heal yourself and change your physiology. Use positive verbal commands to override your negative beliefs.

Letting go…just trying to do so

I went to a chiropractor a couple of months ago. Not sure if I got better aligned or not. But one thing I learnt for sure was how firmly I was holding on – to whatever it was and for whatever reason. It was very apparent that I couldn’t let go.

She asked me to lie on my side on the table and lean toward her, letting go of my body weight towards her. I was disinclined to do so. “Lean forward,” she urged. “Lean against me. I’m not going to let you fall,” she assured. But her words fell on deaf ears. I was tight and stiff and simply unable to let my body go limp and lean fully towards her. I managed to bend forward only a little bit.

I tried. She coaxed. I sighed. She sighed. We gave up.

The experience came as a surprise to me. For in my mind, I am flexible and willing and trusting. But my body seemed to think differently and spoke a different language. It wanted to clench and not let go. I was not quite sure what it was holding on to. Maybe the years of illness have taught it something my mind doesn’t quite understand.

So that day at the chiropractor, I checked in with my mind. It seemed tired - just plain exhausted and worn out. Why then was it unable to go limp? That would be the logical reaction to fatigue, right? My guess is that my body was trying to remain tough and strong to compensate for the sheer fatigue my mind was feeling. But wasn’t it tiring itself further in doing so?

Maybe some sort of power play exists between the mind and body. Or maybe one was looking out for the other. Who knows what? What I do know was that it wasn’t helping me feel better. And what I do sense is that I would feel better if the walls between them would dissolve and if they would speak the same language.  And till I figure out how, all I can do is try.

The letting go inspiration box

In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.
-          Buddha

Letting go of… looking in the mirror in search of someone else…

An old friend called me the other day. In the middle of our conversation, I realized my daughter had been at her video game too long. So I put him on hold, switched gears and turned into tiger mom. I sternly told my daughter to stop the video game, to finish piano practice and get ready for soccer. After all, it was the fourth time I was telling her so.

My tone and content of this admonishment startled my friend. “This is a totally different side of you,” he exclaimed. Did I sense disbelief in his voice? I realized we had not met in over fifteen years and he probably remembered me from college days – carefree, lacking much responsibility and with certainly no propensity for disciplining others.

He joked how my tone made him turn off the TV, eat his breakfast and get ready for work. As funny as I thought this conversation to be, it made me tad wistful. I wished I was the person my friend remembered. Fun, spirited, easy going, with a sense of adventure and an “anything is possible” attitude. Or whatever else I now think that I used to be then.

I felt sad - not for how much easier life was then, but for my attitude towards it. I always had my fingers in many many pies, but I don’t ever remember feeling overwhelmed. I walked in and out of situations and experiences without a thought (which in the first place got me into situations). I don’t remember second-guessing myself, worrying about consequences or rationalizing as much.

Then I caught myself and decided to let go. Of all wistful feelings, of any attempts to remember or resurrect the old-me. Maybe vestiges of that old personality lie tucked beneath somewhere. Maybe they will resurface. Maybe they are lost forever. I let go of trying to look back and search for them.

Maybe it isn’t possible to go back to being who we once were. So why feel bad about it? Why look in the mirror in search of someone who may not be there anymore? Instead, why not find a way to celebrate what was then and what is now. No matter how stodgy the now seems to be.

That said, I can now turn into tiger mom again and ask my daughter to clean her mess of books. And I don’t have to feel wistful in doing so.

The letting go toolbox

This was shared with me quite recently. I haven’t tried it yet, but I certainly hope I will soon. It is used in a local hospital and was originally shared by a drug representative.

It’s called the “3 by 3”. The idea is to write down the following three times a day.

-          Three reasons to feel better
-          Three steps you’re taking to get there
-          Three things you are grateful for

It appeals to me because there is something about putting things down in writing. When your own words stare back at you, the credibility and commitment is bound to increase.

In all honesty, I doubt I will ever manage to write it three times a day. But even if I do so once, I think it will be a good start.

The letting go inspiration box

The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.
- Leo Tolstoy

Will need to keep reminding that to myself

Letting go…of trying to let go

Does the above title make the entire letting go experiment thusfar a hogwash? I hope not. This one is to remind myself to keep it a gentle experiment and not turn stringent about this business of letting go.

For much as we may try, some things cannot be let go of completely. Memories are such and painful ones stick really well. As do our emotions associated with them.

I am very inspired by this interview with the Dalai Lama. The interviewer asked the Dalai Lama if he ever felt guilt and remorse. He said he did and narrated this story.

An elderly monk once asked the Dalai Lama if he should try a yoga regimen. Thinking the monk was too old for yoga, he advised him not to. Dejected, the elderly monk took his life so that he would be able to do yoga in his next birth.

The interviewer was aghast (just as I and now you). He asked the Dalai Lama how he could ever get over something like that. And the Dalai Lama simply said, “I won’t ever. It will always be with me” (paraphrased). He admitted that although it continued to live inside him, he did not allow it to get so overbearing that it overshadowed everything else. He accepted his emotion and kept a check on it with compassion.

I am no Dalai Lama and doubt I ever will be. But this story is so very inspiring. Most of us live with some form of pain – be it guilt, remorse, or something else that we find to fret over.

So if we can find a way to accept it, live with it but not let it overshadow our existence, I think there is hope for us.

For it is not possible to let go of certain things. We just have to make our peace and find a comfortable way to live with them. And perhaps that is another way of viewing the letting go experience.

Letting go… of images held in my head

I always wanted a daughter. A sweet girl who I could dress up in pretty clothes, do her hair and all the other girly stuff. Well I do have a sweet daughter. But none of the rest is true.

I have a bright spirited child, who bustles with energy. Unlike most eight-year old girls, my child shows no interest in dressing up. She will wear her t-shirts and shorts most places she goes – be it to the park or to a party. I often see other girls dolled up in pretty attire and accessories and then I see mine jumping about like a ruffian in her faded play clothes. It is a good day if her hair is combed and tied back.

Until recently, I used to try and fix this “problem”. Although it does not bother me as much, I still try and coax her into wearing “something nice” each time we’re at a social gathering.

She had a birthday recently. I got her a couple of dresses from Nordstrom. Soft and comfy – to please her, pretty enough – to please me. “I’m not wearing those for my party”, pat came her response. “I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt”. I looked at her slightly appalled. “I am going to be swinging around on monkey bars, Mom. I really don’t want anything fancy.” I looked at her disappointed and proud all at once. Disappointed for the time and energy I had put into the shopping; proud that she knew what was important to her.

Why then was I trying to steer her away from that? Why does it matter if she wears the same clothes everywhere we go? She doesn’t want the fuss related to clothes. Why then should I complicate her life?

I choose to let go of this. I choose to let go of trying to portray my child in a certain way. To have her fit any image I may have in my head. If she so fiercely wants to be herself, why should I change that? And I hope I will remember this when we go beyond the topic of clothes into other realms where her choices may not fit an image held in my head.  Parenting is harder than they say, huh?

And hopefully, I will remember this next time we are at a party, when she will have turned out in all the splendor of her faded shorts and t-shirt, engaged of course, in some rowdy activity.

Letting go…of feeling guilty

It’s easy for me to feel guilt. In the past few years I have been regularly hit by huge pangs of guilt. And I continue to do so.  

I felt guilty for causing my family so much pain. For all the anxiety and fear my child has had to feel. She has not been sure about me for a while – if I’m having a good day or bad, if I will be able to go to the park with her or not, or if I will even be around for very long.

For the anxiety I have caused my spouse for refusing to have surgery and continuing to live with what my doctor called a “life-threatening” condition. For the worry I have caused friends who have tried to gauge my situation and figure out what was going on. And for all the times they have had to help me out.

Yes, I have felt guilty each time I have dragged others into my crazy situation. I recently stressed out a friend who drove me around from doctors to x-rays trying to figure out if my colon was perforated. It was. It drained her so much that she canceled a meeting the following day.

So in my opinion, I deserve to feel guilty. I have dragged my family and friends into my unstable existence and have caused them much worry and inconvenience.

So no matter how “right” this guilt is. Does it help? Does feeling bad about the pain you are causing others make them stop feeling it? Does it help me to feel weighed down by the burden of my actions or situation? It only makes me withdraw further and not feel good about myself.  

As someone once wisely said to me, “you didn’t wish this on yourself. And you didn’t wish this on others. Are you doing this intentionally? Why then should you feel guilty?”

So unless the pain we cause someone is intentional, feeling guilty is really pointless. It doesn’t help us. Nor does it help the person who is trying to help us. And it is true for even the smallest instance.

After all, we live crazy connected lives. And in our webbed world, we are bound to feel and share other people joys and worries. Feeling guilty about our actions may be a disservice to our community and a pure waste of our energy.  

And I know some of us torment ourselves with this burden more than others. But my friends, if you are in the same boat as I, do pause and question if it is worth it.

That said, I will try and catch myself from feeling guilty next time I see my child do a nervous twitch. And not allow myself to wonder if I have ruined her life. Sigh…well, at least I can try…

The letting go inspiration box

     Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart

                                  -          William Wordsworth

My writing and this blog seem to be inspired by these words

The letting go toolbox

Letting go… into the earth

I went for a shiatsu massage last month. My head reeled, my heart raced, my mind has a zillion thoughts hurtling about. I was stressed, felt miserable and pressured all at once.

It was obvious that my mind was racing and would simply not calm down. So my shiatsu masseuse and friend told me to try something. She pressed my feet and asked me to imagine my breath going down from my head, through my body and into my feet. She then asked me to imagine roots growing out of my feet, grounding my entire being into the earth. Agreed, it does sounds quite new-agey. But I did as I was told and I think it calmed my nerves some.

To be grounded so firmly to the earth seemed wonderful. I felt supported and as if I could let go and rest. As I walked out to the car, I studied the pavement with new eyes. I felt more connected with the ground, with the world, as if I was part of something bigger.  

I thought of her advice today and tried it again. I imagined roots growing out of my feet, rooting and grounding me to the earth. With my breath, I allowed all that I didn’t want inside me to ripple away from my feet into the ground that could take it all and bury it deep. I sighed and felt better – even if it was for a moment, it felt good.

So if it doesn’t sound too weird or new-agey to you, give it a try. For the earth seems endless and our pains and problems running through it would be but miniscule.

Letting go…of trying to remember stuff that is best forgotten

Not to bore you with hospital tales. But I am amazed at how foggy my brain is about the two and a half weeks I spent there. My friend stopped by today and spoke of when she visited me in the hospital. I stared at her muddled and confused. I simply could not remember her visit. She reminded me of what was going on – the tube down my nose, the word game my husband and I were playing, the jokes they cracked (somehow I don’t need a memory to guess who they were making fun of). Some snippets of conversation seem vaguely familiar, but at best fuzzy.

Much about my stay there is blurry and hazy. I watched a movie and no matter how much I try, I cannot remember a thing about it – the actors, the story, the locations. All I can remember is a couple of comments we made.

We’re blaming it on the morphine. But I realized that barring the first couple of days, I had hardly used any. It slows things down and since my body was not restarting, I toughened up and used very little.

Maybe it was the meds or maybe it was the discomfort that made it hard to focus on anything else. Whatever the reason, I’m quite glad to leave it all in oblivion.

I wonder if such memory loss is our body’s survival technique. It’s method of letting go of difficult and painful pieces of our life. I have heard stories of accident victims who can’t remember anything about the accident. So although some painful parts are still vivid, they continue to blur every day. And what a beautiful flaw this memory loss is.

So if my entire being is trying to forget this part of my life, why should I try to resurrect it? Some memories are meant to disintegrate into ashes and blow away into dust. And I simply have to watch them fade into nothingness. Why try and dig them up, relive them and keep them alive?

So with due apologies to friends whose visits I cannot remember, I’m happy that those weeks are getting blurrier by the day. And I’m simply allowing them to...

Letting go…of trying to protect myself

I had surgery. A big long surgery. The surgery went well. Recovery was a bitch. Post surgery complications were among the most harrowing experiences my poor body has had to deal with. And it has dealt with much.

One of the nurses said my body was probably stark angry from everything that was done to it. She was probably right. And that’s probably why it decided to go on strike and refused to start working again. When I expressed concern to my doctor, he almost chided me and asked me to go easy on myself. My body was weak from years of illness and it had endured a big surgery, were his wise words.

But there I was writhing in discomfort, waiting impatiently to start feeling better. And then I began to wonder if I was the one coming in the way of my healing. I was simply so clenched and tight. My body needed compassion to believe it could start working again and I was serving it impatience.

So in the midst of all the turmoil, fear and pain, I decided I needed to let go. Maybe I was trying to protect myself by holding myself so tightly. And it was doing me no good. Yes, wisdom can strike in a fog of morphine too.

But despite this wisdom found in the in the midst of pain, vomiting and tubes down my nose, I simply could not let myself go. I even tried telling myself that things couldn’t possibly get worse and that I should just allow my body to relax. But I continued to remain impatient and inflexible.

Perhaps it was fear, perhaps I was trying to protect myself, perhaps it was more body than mind. Whatever the reason, I simply could not allow myself to loosen up, trust my body and allow it to simply be.

I still have ways to go in my recovery. But I would like it to happen with more compassion. I would like to trust my body more and believe in its capacity to heal. I would like to go easy on myself and allow the healing to happen. On its own – without my interference.

I am not quite convinced I will succeed in this endeavor. I am not quite sure if I am even capable of it. But I’m struck by how hard it can be for some of us to go easy on ourselves. I wonder if I have often come in the way of my own healing or happiness. I suspect I am trying to protect myself fiercely here. And it’s time for me to let go of doing that…