The Art of Letting Go
I have always wondered what "art" had to do with letting go and not until the recent death of my husband (we had be separated for over 16 years) did I finally get it. It's funny how life moves us in the many directions it must in order for us to learn what it is in life that we are supposed to.
Life is a complex process that weaves us back and forth until we finally get it. Sometimes we get dizzy and lose our way, but eventually the teaching comes to the forefront and we can start to make sense of all the weaving. I liken it to the spider who continues to weaves it's web once it has been knocked down or destroyed; eventually the spider realizes that the current location isn't working and moves on to another spot to create it's home; it lets go. It has to in order to survive.
My understanding of art is that it is an expression of human creative skill and imagination that is appreciated primarily for it's beauty or emotional power. When we apply "art" to letting go of something or someone we are using our imagination or skills/beliefs to create the often in-tangible letting go that one cannot physically see but physically feel. An example of such is when you hear people say that they feel like a weight has been lifted off of them when they finally release all that has kept them from moving forward; whatever that loss may be.
It is in this moment of letting go that our emotional release creates a pathway to a beauty that we don't often stop and acknowledge; our new selves. Just as the caterpillar metamorphosis's into the butterfly of many colors, so do we. However, it is hard to notice growth; the mirror of "this is me before I let go and this is me after" just doesn't exist. And even if it did, how would it be able to tell our inner growth? Often, it is usually others that notice it before we do and I suppose you can say they are the mirror of our change.
Letting go is an art that not many can master right away or at all, but once they do a magnificent masterpiece awaits! Yea that last sentence may sound like hocus pocus kind of thinking, but just let it sit with you for a bit because it isn't. I cried when my dad died for what seemed like forever but really was only 4 years; then one day I stopped crying. I remember that moment as if it was yesterday; I was at a men's drum practise. And as the men were contemplating what song to sing next, I offered my tobacco to the drum and asked for a song for my dad; I let go and my heart stopped hurting.
Oh, I still shed a tear at memories of him every now and then, wish I could hear his voice one more time or get a big bear hug from him when I am feeling blue, but I know he is in a good place and it doesn't hurt for me to say so. My dad is in my heart and mind and will always be as letting go isn't about forgetting. Sometimes we need to remember to keep our selves, our mind and body safe and to stop us from doing things that will be detrimental to our selves. When one forgives loss however it has come about then it starts the chain of moving forward and away from the hurt to create a space within ourselves that is okay, a space that allows for more positives even in the negatives. And okay is a good place to be when we first start the process of letting go. Don't kid yourself; okay is a really good place to be in the beginning of your masterpiece which is YOU.
And the beauty of life is that we re-create our selves every time a loss happens whether we want to or not. I don't believe a butterfly has the option of not being a butterfly and neither do we. My husband died recently and suddenly (about two months ago). Even though we had been apart for over 16 years with little contact, I was overcome with grief when I heard he had passed away. Our marriage wasn't a good one as it was fraught with physical and verbal violence; it hurt to be with him, literally. I don't think he intentionally set out to hurt me, he just did. But I did love him; he gave me two beautiful children. I always try hard to focus on the positives in such extreme negatives for if I don't, it will eat away at me and make me sick.
My daughter and I attended his funeral. My son couldn't bring himself to go; he wasn't ready. My sisters came with my daughter and I to the funeral where I cried as I saw him in his casket, I cried as my daughter saw him, and I cried as they put him into the ground. I think I cried more for the loss of who he could have been if he had more time and took better care of himself. As I listened to those who spoke of him at the funeral I wondered who this man had become for he wasn't the one who I knew 16 years ago. I found myself wanting to have known this man they talked of instead of the one that I was married to. Despite it all, he was a good man; he just behaved badly at times and although I knew why, I couldn't stop him from doing it. It makes me sad that he couldn't stop himself from doing it either.
After the funeral my sister Desi commented that I was a better person than she was because if the situation was different where her ex-husband had died, she didn't think she would attend his funeral or be so forgiving. And while that is a truth for her, it could have been a truth for me too. I remember many years ago saying to my husband that I would live to be old and grey long before he would and that I would spit on his grave when he died. I didn't spit on his grave and I am not really old and grey (greying maybe but not grey). I had forgiven him; I let him go somewhere in the years and now as I stared at where he was lying in the ground with tobacco and dirt in my hands to throw on his casket, I prayed for my dad to help him in the spirit world. While I will never forget what our marriage taught me, I let go of the hurt that surrounded it. He was free and so was I.
Yep, the art of letting go isn't easy and sometimes we feel we cannot ever let go,that our sanity is tied to what we hold; it isn't.
"Breathe", I tell myself. "It will weigh us down", my body reminds me with every heavy step. "Just let go of it", my heart says. "Live", whispers the Creator.
In good thoughts,
Carrianne
Life is a complex process that weaves us back and forth until we finally get it. Sometimes we get dizzy and lose our way, but eventually the teaching comes to the forefront and we can start to make sense of all the weaving. I liken it to the spider who continues to weaves it's web once it has been knocked down or destroyed; eventually the spider realizes that the current location isn't working and moves on to another spot to create it's home; it lets go. It has to in order to survive.
My understanding of art is that it is an expression of human creative skill and imagination that is appreciated primarily for it's beauty or emotional power. When we apply "art" to letting go of something or someone we are using our imagination or skills/beliefs to create the often in-tangible letting go that one cannot physically see but physically feel. An example of such is when you hear people say that they feel like a weight has been lifted off of them when they finally release all that has kept them from moving forward; whatever that loss may be.
It is in this moment of letting go that our emotional release creates a pathway to a beauty that we don't often stop and acknowledge; our new selves. Just as the caterpillar metamorphosis's into the butterfly of many colors, so do we. However, it is hard to notice growth; the mirror of "this is me before I let go and this is me after" just doesn't exist. And even if it did, how would it be able to tell our inner growth? Often, it is usually others that notice it before we do and I suppose you can say they are the mirror of our change.
Letting go is an art that not many can master right away or at all, but once they do a magnificent masterpiece awaits! Yea that last sentence may sound like hocus pocus kind of thinking, but just let it sit with you for a bit because it isn't. I cried when my dad died for what seemed like forever but really was only 4 years; then one day I stopped crying. I remember that moment as if it was yesterday; I was at a men's drum practise. And as the men were contemplating what song to sing next, I offered my tobacco to the drum and asked for a song for my dad; I let go and my heart stopped hurting.
 |
| dad having a good laugh |
And the beauty of life is that we re-create our selves every time a loss happens whether we want to or not. I don't believe a butterfly has the option of not being a butterfly and neither do we. My husband died recently and suddenly (about two months ago). Even though we had been apart for over 16 years with little contact, I was overcome with grief when I heard he had passed away. Our marriage wasn't a good one as it was fraught with physical and verbal violence; it hurt to be with him, literally. I don't think he intentionally set out to hurt me, he just did. But I did love him; he gave me two beautiful children. I always try hard to focus on the positives in such extreme negatives for if I don't, it will eat away at me and make me sick.
 |
| Me and my husband many years ago |
After the funeral my sister Desi commented that I was a better person than she was because if the situation was different where her ex-husband had died, she didn't think she would attend his funeral or be so forgiving. And while that is a truth for her, it could have been a truth for me too. I remember many years ago saying to my husband that I would live to be old and grey long before he would and that I would spit on his grave when he died. I didn't spit on his grave and I am not really old and grey (greying maybe but not grey). I had forgiven him; I let him go somewhere in the years and now as I stared at where he was lying in the ground with tobacco and dirt in my hands to throw on his casket, I prayed for my dad to help him in the spirit world. While I will never forget what our marriage taught me, I let go of the hurt that surrounded it. He was free and so was I.
Yep, the art of letting go isn't easy and sometimes we feel we cannot ever let go,that our sanity is tied to what we hold; it isn't.
"Breathe", I tell myself. "It will weigh us down", my body reminds me with every heavy step. "Just let go of it", my heart says. "Live", whispers the Creator.
In good thoughts,
Carrianne
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