Letting Go

My Sabonim once asked me if I ever just let go.

“No.” I responded.  Followed by a quick “I’m not really sure what you mean, Sir.”

In my mind, there are two things that could happen should I let go.

The first is that a hole will open up right under my feet and I will plummet straight down into the ground, arms overhead with my fingers dragging the dirt of the long layers of earth, scattered debris filling my lungs, the pressure shooting me faster and faster through the tunnel until I eject at the liquid center, floating weightless, slowly realizing that I am drowning before being consumed by the molten core.

The second is that the laws of gravity will no longer attach to my being, the abandonment a surprise, flipping me over on my head, pulling me not so gently feet first toward the sky, with nothing to grab on to, panicking, struggling, screaming until I am hoarse, higher and higher, freezing, the air to thin to support coherent thought, and suffocating as I exit the confines of the planet’s atmosphere.

Neither particularly appeal to me.

We all have those things we need to let go.  From the past there are wrong turns, bad decisions, and a multitude of sins.  In the present there are the daily stresses causing clutter and chaos, a constant juggle and priority debate.  In the future there are uncertainties and fears.  They can overwhelm.  Often need reminders or a  swift kick to keep moving.

Not quite ready to let go,

but I am breathing.

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