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…

The letting go inspiration box

Faith is taking the first step even when you can't see the whole staircase.
- Martin Luther King Jr.

Those are exactly the words I need today.

Letting go Toolbox

The letting go toolbox is an attempt to put together some stuff that can help the endeavor.

I have found this short technique effective and would find it more so if I remembered to do it more often. A friend who is a psychologist and runs parenting groups first introduced me to it. This is how it goes (in my clumsy paraphrased way)…

Start with something that is bothering you. It could be anything – physical pain, sadness, or the person next to you talking way too loudly.

Step one: Ask yourself if what is bothering you is true.

Step two: Ask yourself again if it is indeed a hundred percent true.

Step three: Notice how this makes you feel inside your body. Notice where you hold the feeling or emotion in your body.

Step four: Now imagine how it would feel to be free of this feeling – even for the briefest moment.

I confess I have not done this as often as I would like to. But the breath of fresh air it provides can be exhilarating. And each time, I have been surprised at how easy it can be. True the bothersome matter may return and with it the reaction to it. But respite from it for even the briefest moment is refreshing.

Note: The name of the book for this escapes my mind. Will put the source in soon.

Letting go of… the peel of pressure around something good

Last night I felt a sudden knot in my stomach. What in the world had I signed myself up for here? A year-long blog! Was I simply crazy? Didn’t I used to have a blog that I hardly ever blogged into?

When asked if I was a writer, hadn’t I told people, “yes I’m a writer who hardly ever writes”? Wasn’t my life crazy and full already? With the possibility of an upcoming surgery, didn’t uncertainty loom everywhere?

Why then was I embarking on something new? On something quite unnecessary? On something that didn’t make complete sense -- even to me? On something that was heading wherever it was – without any particular sense of direction...

And then I stopped. I watched my thoughts spin and spiral till they quietly slowed down. And I let go of all pressure. I had started this blog simply because I wanted to.  Simply because it seemed like the right thing to do. Not because it was the right time for it. Or because I had some grand message to give to the world.  But simply because it seemed right and meaningful to me.

And then I let go of all pressure related to it and started breathing again. And the sweetness and freshness and freedom of the blog sprung up again.

Want to try and do the same today? Find something sweet and fresh in your life, and remove the peel of pressure around it and smell it, enjoy it, savor it – simply for what it is.

Letting go of… all of life’s overwhelm… for only a moment

Yesterday was a very emotional day for me. Coming to terms with a surgery I have tried to avoid for the past several years is not easy. But that is little reason to being grumpy all the way to the pre-surgery appointment, dabbing your eyes during appointments, or grabbing tissues one after another when the nurse is talking to you.

I remembered when as a child, my sisters would call me Meena Kumari (a Bollywood tragedy queen of yore). This would be one time when my melancholic being was truly worthy of the title.

Appointments, blood draws, paperwork… as I stood at a counter, a sign caught my eye. “Thank you for your SMILE. Your smile has helped my day”.

So I looked at the lady behind the counter (who thankfully was not the overly cheerful kind) and I smiled. I gave her the best from-the-heart smile I could muster. Probably for the first time in the day and probably for the last.

It was sheer fresh air. It was like opening a window and realizing that the flowers, trees and mountains were still there. A sigh later, I probably shut that window again. But the memory of the momentary relief lingered with me.

Today I think back of its power. Maybe that’s all we need. A few moments of an open window without any attempt at keeping the window open forever. No matter how brief. No matter how quick. Maybe one quick glance at the azure can put all the clouds into perspective.  

Letting go of... holding it together

As long as I can remember, I have always been one to hold it together. Hardly any tantrums as a child, no turbulent teens to speak of, I was always the “good girl”. (This is of course till Snappy the Dragon Lady made her entry a few years ago. Remember Snappy?)

Yes, I’ve walked away from many a fight, politely exited an argument and have maintained my quiet when caustic comments came my way. I always imagined this was me taking the higher road. Perhaps it was.
But if so, why am I bitter about unkind words and actions that I quietly withstood. What would be the difference between them and I - was the ideal I maintained. Why then do I not feel any peace or pride when I look back at such instances?

And in difficult situations, I lifted my chin and held it together. There was no reason to make a big fuss about things. I could deal with it. I could deal with anything. In the course of my illness, countless people have told me that they never suspected that I was sick. Probably because I refused to allow myself to fall apart. For after all, that was what I had trained myself to do.

This post sounds bitter and maybe it is. But I do want to question our need to hold it together so much and if it is truly worth it. Is it truly a noble or brave act, if it causes pain on the inside, even when the shell outside remains shinny, chipper and cheerful?

I wonder if all this makes for some really bad advice. It probably does. So if in a difficult situation you are able to hold it together, please do so. I’m sure the world will be better for it.

But if holding it together is wearing you down, seems exhausting, and is not serving any purpose, then simply be yourself. For in my opinion, this whole business is quite overrated. I for one don’t want to do it anymore and the mere thought of not having to do so anymore is liberating.

Letting go of… Snappy the Dragon Lady

My life overwhelms me. Not particularly happy about several aspects of my life and illness, I believe I have turned into Snappy the Dragon Lady.  

My family will rapidly recount stories of what happens when you fall in the path of fire breathing Snappy the Dragon lady. Why I can’t recognize myself either when I don this dragon avatar.

So this week’s intention is to let go of the fire that Snappy breathes.

If Snappy is frustrated or disappointed, maybe she can try and cool her dragon tail before interacting with the family. Or maybe Snappy could do some breathing techniques (the non-fire breathing kind) till she becomes zen-dragon. Okay, somewhat zen-dragon will work too. For there is no need for my stress, pain and fears to affect my interactions with my family. Especially given the terrible guilt and remorse I feel later. Sigh…dragons have hearts too.

Snappy has been around for a while now and getting rid of her is going to be difficult. She believes she has earned her right to be here given how hard things can be for her. So it seems unlikely that Snappy the dragon will turn into a soft purring kitty overnight. But simply noticing her when her she raises her dragon head, soothing the same fierce head and gently leading her to the door may be a good start.

Staying firm, compassionate and determined and not giving in to the dragon within may be the only way for me to train this dragon...

How will you train your dragon?

Letting go of... forcing my values down someone else’s throat…

Yet another birthday party for our precocious now eight-year-old. As always, there was much excitement around the party. And as always, there was one thing that bothered me – gifts.
I think it an imposition for guests to get gifts and I always feel overwhelmed by the gifts at the end of the party.

I love the idea of donations to a charity instead of gifts, or even a book exchange. And for the past several years, I have suggested it to my daughter. But it is always met with resistance. “No gifts Mom! That would be terrible,” her face is crestfallen. She loves the feeling of surprise that opening a gift holds. And she just can’t imagine how a birthday can be complete without gifts.

So by now, she senses when I am about to broach the topic and her tiny antennae spring up. Even before I could present my entire case this year, her body language and then her little self doled out a flat “No”.

I sighed. But I also made my peace with it. I realized that my wanting a no-gifts birthday was part of my value system. And imposing my values on her was simply not the way to go about it.

Charitable thoughts and feelings have to come from within. And I know they will for her too when the time is right. Or maybe she will find other ways to do good in the world. But forcing her to feel a certain way was really not doing any good – to her, to me or to the world. For it is important that her values are her own - not those passed down or forced down on her.

So I simply let it go. Maybe I won’t even bring up the topic next year. Yeah right… I’m just about as stubborn as any mule could possibly be… So I’m quite sure it will come up. But I will accept her answer without any reaction, without any reservations.

 For I will know that there is plenty of time for her to figure out her values and beliefs – many of which will be stellar and sound – whether or not they involve gifts.

Letting go…of not allowing myself to feel pain and discomfort

I have spent a good chunk of the past few years in pain. Most people with chronic illness do so. Pain like this assumes a life of its own. It grows, transforms and even metamorphoses into emotions, feelings, frustrations you never knew you could hold. It seems to assume colors, shapes and even a personality of it’s own.

And as it makes a space for itself in your being, you start to react to it. Frustration, annoyance, anger, irritation, helplessness… Till (as in my case), I try to control the situation. And how have I controlled such a situation? Simply by numbing myself to it.

As I reflected over the course of my illness, I was stunned at what I had been doing. I remembered all the physical pain I used to experience at the beginning. But for the past several years, I have hardly complained of physical pain to my doctor. And I simply stare blankly at nurses and doctors when asked to rate my pain scale. 

So if the illness has worsened as I am told, where has all the pain gone? I simply don’t allow myself to feel to feel it as much – except when it catches me off-guard. Or if there is a new source of pain – even the smallest.

And though it may sound brave, I think it has been an act of cowardice. For has this bravado helped me? Quite the contrary, I think. For numbing myself to it, hasn’t made it go away. And since it can’t go away, it has simply manifested in other ways. Countless times that I’ve shouted at my child, snapped at my spouse, or completely zoned out whilst in company – truly I have been a joy to live with.

Maybe I was tired, maybe I didn’t have the strength to face it, maybe it didn’t make me feel good about myself. Whatever the reason, the realization brought me pain and for once I allowed myself to feel it.

Till I realized that I had done it to some degree all my life. Many of us do. And you don’t have to have a big chronic pain to do so. Many of us find ways to not feel the discomfort of a situation. I have often distracted myself with a frenzy of activities rather than slow down and face the discomfort. For facing it takes courage. Acceptance is hard. Annoyance is easy. And distraction is speedy.

So what is the solution then? Feel the ache, complain about it all the time? Again, I will be a true joy to be around, right?  

Perhaps the answer lies in acceptance and a certain compassion towards the pain and towards ourselves as we hold it. A certain courage to face it, no matter how uncomfortable it makes us feel.  For fighting it will not make it go away. Pretending it doesn’t exist, will not make it go away. So why not try befriending it no matter how ugly it seems or how ugly it makes us feel…

Letting go of… micromanaging stuff that that doesn’t even matter…Cupcakes and Control

As part of our annual tradition for my daughter’s birthday party, we baked and baked and baked. Egg whites peaked, soft frosting rose in the blender, we inhaled flour, sneezed out sugar, and one small stealthy hand sneakily stuffed chocolate chips into her mouth.

My daughter and I love to bake together. But each time I stand in our sticky upheaval of flour and butter, I question my sanity and why I involve her in the baking. Clouds of flour form in the kitchen, whipped egg whites take flight, counters get so sticky that I sometimes imagine our waif-like baker stuck to them!

 

But the enthusiasm of one sweet little baker makes it all seem worthwhile. When I taught her to coat chocolate chips with flour before putting them in the batter, she felt she had acquired the greatest trade secret. “I will teach my kid that”, she solemnly declared. “And I’ll tell my kid my mom taught me so.”

Agreed there is much sweetness in this memory. But for most part, when I’m surrounded in the ooey-gooey mess, I try to start controlling the situation.  And as always, I heard myself say, “that’s way too many sprinkles”, “you’ll bruise the cupcake if you press the frosting spatula so hard”, “don’t wave the spatula in the air”, “if you put so many sprinkles, how can anyone even taste the frosting?”

With my every criticism, one sweet baker’s face grew smaller.

A glance at her crestfallen face made me ask myself why I wanted to bake with her. This is what memories are made of, I told myself. And I do want her to teach “her kid” how to roll chocolate chips in flour. And I do want to be in their kitchen if only in the form of a memory. This mess of flour, butter, eggs and sugar was my bond with her and it mattered to me. It was sweeter than any treat our kitchen churned out.

Suddenly, it was easier for me to stop micromanaging. Maybe understanding what we do want, makes it easy to let go of what we don’t need.

And then I decided to let go. I let go of trying to control how many sprinkles she put on each cupcake, how many sprinkles ended on the floor, how sticky the floor was getting and I almost let go of her licking her sprinkle-filled fingers. Okay I did make her go wash her hands after I saw her licking her fingers. “How would you like if a restaurant chef licked his fingers while preparing your food?” was the question that took the unwilling child begrudgingly to the sink. But it almost brought a smile, rather than a creased forehead.

As I watched her lick the spatulas and other mixing devices beyond clean, and pulled some sprinkles out of her hair, I hoped we would have many more such sweet, sticky memories. And that with each one, I hope I will learn to let go a little more and simply enjoy her company and constant chatter.

The letting go experiment...the experiment begins...

A few weeks ago, right about bedtime, a meltdown began in our household. From a small lapping wave, our seven-year old’s meltdown gained momentum and grew and grew into an angry tidal wave devouring in its path any shreds of patience, calm, reason her “wise” parents had to offer.  As I watched the child scream and weep, an image of a determined dog refusing to let go of a bone came to my mind. The child simply could not let go of what she wanted.

“But you had said”, “this is not fair”, “just this one time”, “you guys are so mean”, “you don’t love me”, the words tumbled out of a red and teary faced-soul. I sighed and heaved and was ready to throw in the towel. I could see an image of the sweet child blissfully asleep beneath cool sheets and peace pervading in our home. But the parent in me decided her demand was not reasonable and we could not give in each time she threw a fit. So we valiantly battled on.

More tears, more coaxing, more raised voices – hers and our later, the storm finally calmed down. Then it was time for me to go into advice mode. I gave her my best spiel on how she was hurting herself by not letting go. With analogies of dark clouds accumulating inside her sunny self, I tried explaining how holding on to something that was unlikely to happen was making her so unhappy and angry inside. She seemed to nod in agreement. But again that may have been due to sheer exhaustion.

I tossed and turned that night. Wondering why I was so upset, I suddenly realized that I was exactly the same way. I too had a hard time letting go. I too was that dog refusing to let go of the bone. This reality was sobering. I needed a good chunk of that wisdom I had poured on the tired seven-year old. The many occasions I had made myself unhappy simply by refusing to let go flashed before my eye.

My daughter had evidently picked the wrong gene from me. Or was she modeling after me I wondered with horror. Or was she simply being a seven-year old? I mulled it over for days. Was my inability to let go coming in the way of my happiness and freedom, I wondered. And since I couldn’t “let go” of the idea (the beauty of irony, huh?), I decided to turn it into an exploration, an experiment in learning to do so. 

And that is what this blog is about. A year-long experiment in letting go. Big stuff, small stuff, important stuff, not-so-important stuff. A year’s worth of personal experiences, attempts, inspirations, and musings on the topic. Drawing inspiration, testing theories, reviewing research, making intentions… the attempt becomes more conscious, more real as I chronicle it here.

So will I be completely zen by the end of the year? Or will this blog merely crumble away like my many other intentions? That of course, remains to be seen.

But planting this seed of intent to let go makes me feel better. And while there are no guarantees of enlightenment or zenhood (if that is a word) by the end of the year, I hope I will have learned at least on occasion to let go, that my jaw will clench less, my shoulders will tighten less, the knots in my stomach will relax, and I will breathe free and happy. This is the experiment to let go of all that holds me back and holds the promise to set me free.