Dropping the Rope: The Power of Letting Go
July 15, 2016
“Sometimes letting
things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on.”—Eckert
Tolle
I’ve done it a thousand times, but this time something went
wrong. I was bringing Tank out of his paddock to go up to the barn, when another
horse squeezed between us, pulling Tank’s lead rope tight. In response to the
pressure, Tank pulled back, jerking the lead rope out of my hand. Because I
didn’t have the good sense to drop the rope when I first felt a tug, the result
was a severe rope burn on the palm and middle finger of my left hand. I spent
the remainder of my time at the barn with my hand wrapped around an icy water
bottle, and the rest of the week healing.
While this was an instance of literally needing to
let go, it reminded me that there are plenty of attitudes, expectations, fears,
worries, opinions, burdens, and limitations we—I —should let go of. We’re often
taught about the importance of persevering—not so often about letting go.
I’m now of an age where letting go is taking center stage.
My son is grown and my role in the family is changing. I’m becoming less
interested in what others think of me, so I’m reevaluating what I do and how I
do it. I’m setting aside certain desires and dreams to make room for new ones.
None of this is easy, and it starts with letting go.
As you might have guessed, letting go does not come naturally to me. I’m more inclined to cling, to fight change, to stay rigid. What am I so
afraid of? Pain? Discomfort? Chaos? Pain, discomfort, and chaos are part of
life. Holding tight to that lead rope reminded me that holding on doesn’t
protect me from pain. Sometimes it causes it. And here’s the thing about
letting go:
It reduces the pain. If I’d dropped the rope as soon
as I felt Tank pull against it, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I don’t know why I
was hanging on so hard—there was no real reason for it. Sometimes we hang on so
hard, and for what?
It allows us to regroup and move on. Tank trotted off
only a couple of strides and the other horses did nothing but sniff noses or
flick an ear in his direction. I was easily able to collect him and resume our
walk up to the barn. Sometimes it’s only when we’ve let go that we see the way
out of our difficulty, or the excellent alternative to what we were clinging to
in the first place.
If we’re in a situation where we’re clinging hard to a
person, belief, or outcome, and we’re miserable and frustrated much of the
time, perhaps it’s time to at least consider letting go. Take a few minutes,
close our eyes, imagine what it would be like to let go. Do we feel relief?
Panic? Deep sorrow? Visualizing letting go might offer us the breathing room we
need to see a better option for moving forward. If our attitudes and
expectations rob us of happiness, we should let them go. If we’ve tied our
happiness to a particular outcome that we just can’t seem to produce, it might
be time to let that go, too.
In a case of perfect timing, yesterday, our yoga teacher,
Tina, finished the class by reading us the following poem as we lay in final
relaxation pose:
She Let Go
She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.
She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let
go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the
committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the “right” reasons.
Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.
She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on
how to let go. She didn’t search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of
all the memories that held her back. She let go of all the anxiety that kept
her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations
about how to do it just right.
She didn’t promise to let go. She didn’t journal about it.
She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public
announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn’t check the weather report or
read her daily horoscope. She just let go.
She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. She didn’t
call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual
Mind Treatment. She didn’t call the prayer line. She didn’t utter one word. She
just let go.
No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or
congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like
a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.
There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good
and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile
came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon
shone forevermore.
—Rev. Safire Rose
What are you clinging to? Is it time to let go?
9 comments
Beautiful post out of a painful experience. Letting go, for me, is easier when I stop assigning labels like "it's for the best" or "I must" to the situation and just for it.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Laure. I agree that labeling things does make it harder to let go.
ReplyDeletePowerful post Kathy. I hope your hand is better by now.
ReplyDeleteAs always, yes, yes, and I agreee and i thank you...Letting go, sigh.....
ReplyDeleteI hope your hand heals quickly...Interesting how lessons can come from pain and adversity...if one is open...
ReplyDeleteCheryl--Thanks for stopping by and for your concern. My hand is almost completely healed, and fortunately it was my non-dominant hand so wasn't too much of an inconvenience.
ReplyDeleteRita--Thanks for your comments, as always. I hope I've learned to let go of the rope, and to let go of the things that are holding me back.
ReplyDeleteDear Kathy what a well written and thought provoking post. Very timely for me. There are always changes in life. Some are big and strike unexpectedly and others come subtly. Letting go of ones expectations is often the difficult part. Thanks so much Kathy for your words of wisdom. I sure hope your hand is better. Take care. Hugs!
ReplyDeleteDebbie--Thanks for your kind comments. I think we all have things we need to let go of, probably more often than we want to admit. My hand is almost completely healed, too, thanks!
ReplyDelete