One side-effect of really liking something is being scared of not having it anymore.
I have a mug I don’t want to drop, a friend I don’t want to move away, and an awareness at times that I’m not letting go of something good in my life because I’m forgetful. I don’t recall all the times I allowed myself to need, and watched the streams rise to meet me.
This is one of the great invitations of life: to allow, to let go, to breath, to receive.
All of those relaxing, free, and childlike words are the opposite of Control.
Control might be the loss of hope, but I’m not sure.
Control probably has some sort of enmeshed relationship with Fear.
Control keeps me blocked, and hope keeps me open.
Control could be described as the inability to remain open, insisting in small ways, this is the best mug you’ll ever get, and you better be careful with it.
In time your mug begins to resent you, and in a bit more time, you won’t take your mug on the patio, because you might drop it.
Control is small, and keeps me small. Control wants me to remain the same, no surprises. Control writes a script for you, and sadly, others.
You relax your grip on your favorite mug. You actually buy a new mug and start to like it as much as your favorite. You relax your grip on your life.
You relax your grip on others.
And eventually you relax your grip on yourself.
Love isn’t letting go of everything. You still get to have some things in your hands. But there’s no promise for how long.
No force in life has promised me that my favorite mug will last seven more days, much less, seven more years.
Some people believe not getting attached to anything that might go / break / leave is the solution, (which is still Control).
Have you ever lost or let go of something, and it felt terrible? It felt like an irreplaceable loss of goodness?
Be thankful for that. That probably means you really loved something. It probably means you allowed something or someone to be terrifically important to you. And that’s the beautiful side of life.
The beautiful side of life is often attached to the terrible side. That’s the shocker.
We can honestly believe that the good in that thing, that moment, that person, is GONE. (which isn’t true)
And being open, increases our chances of finding other streams.
The streams that fed us when we were eight, aren’t always going to be able to feed us when we’re eighteen, twenty-eight, and thirty-eight…
We can grow so accustomed to drinking from the same stream, we hardly notice when it’s not enough anymore. And when we do, we can blame the stream.
But it’s no one’s fault.
It’s just a part of nature, and goodness.
We grow, and the winds change, and we need other streams. Our favorite mug remains very special to us, but finds itself spending more time on the shelf and we find ourselves enjoying different mugs.
And what we need changes.
And if we don’t allow ourselves to change, we can spend two decades eating the same food, listening to the same music, telling the same stories, and laughing at the same jokes.
Being Open is hard in a SWMO culture that values Being Right.
Being Open is so much harder than Being Right, because open means brave enough to be vulnerable, and honest enough to be wrong.
Find some people, and practice love.
Practice being open, and practice being wrong.
We’re going to love ourselves, and our people, more in twenty years than we ever thought possible.
And we might have an entire shelf of favorite mugs.