Write this down. Let something go.

I screenshot this from Asia Suler’s Facebook page, because that is my reflex when something catches my eye or snags at my chest – and then I reposted it to a group I’m part of, where I thought it was likely to resonate. And then, I paused, and realized, I had kept it moving in the world, like I play Ping Pong, moving quick and keeping things in play… but it hadn’t really landed in me. So I took out my journal and I wrote it out, and in doing this, I invited the words to land. Not all of them did. Some of them didn’t resonate. But the ones that did, sunk in a bit deeper. Stayed with me a bit longer.

I’m going to invite you to try that too, and maybe you won’t and that’s totally fine, this is a space for receiving and sharing and taking a break from the constant striving, or the debating and battling, or the stress of showing up or wondering how you’re showing up. I’m doing it for me, too, because typing it out once more, will let something else lodge in my brain or my hands or my chest… and I’m curious to see if it’s different to type than hand-scribe, and if the phrase, “can you feel how deeply your presence is craved outside” is still the phrase that rings like a long bell.

I’m sure you’ve seen the post about fall, and the leaves teaching us how beautiful it is to let go.

I don’t know if there’s anything easy about it, even if it does seem pretty and obvious on instagram.

This is related, because, I guess, it’s the medicine of this season, the invitation of this time in the year.

This Autumn, writes Asia, let something die.

This Autumn, let something die.

A worry, a relationship, a project that has run its course. Let go of anxiety over the future. Let go of guilt.

Let go of other people’s dreams for you.

Let go of the fear that happiness or success or love or joyousness somehow isn’t for you.

Let go of feeling unwanted. Go outside, can you feel how deeply your presence is craved here?

Let go of the small and burdensome things. Gifts never opened. Keys without a lock. Broken earrings, old love letters, the ephemera on your fridge.

As David Whyte writes, “Anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.” This Autumn, let go of all the clothes you have outgrown.

Let go of comparison.

Let go of doubt.

Let go of the feeling that you are somehow not good enough.

Because every imperfect apple that lays soft in your hands, and every ray of low Autumn sunlight that warms you through woollens will tell you a different story, a much truer story. The story that you are more, much more, than enough. That you bless this world simply by being alive.

2 thoughts on “Write this down. Let something go.

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