Saturday, October 17, 2009

Releasing

In this moment in the deepest portion of the dark, when I am alone and all I hear are night noises, my sense comes alive (how funny that I didn't say "my senses come alive"). I am able to release the idea that I must have rhyme and reason, and I begin to allow myself to step into Faith.
When I randomly put up 5 photos to share with you tonight, I decided not to think too hard nor too long, and I had no new photos to share, but I have still been itching to share this poppy with you (and it isn't the last you'll see of it, I am sure)
...this proud poppy, with one fragile pink-crepe petal left moves me...
it moves me in the same way a beloved doll with an arm dangling by one thread, would.
It moves me in the same way that an unhatched egg that is pushed from the nest, would.
It moves in the same way that a spider leaves one skin behind,
emerging shiny and fresh and fragile, would.
The mostly round pebbles for this picture were carefully put together as a prayer of thanks for my little family on a day when I was so full of love for my son's interest in all-things-under-rocks. When I was so full of love for my daughter's delight in the warm wind through her golden hair. When I was so full of love for my husband's unabashed excitement to be running on a shoreline with his pants rolled up and his white feet in the warm water, instead of driving down a hot and dusty road to God-Knows-Where.
I created it from little pebbles that had been released from the tide of a well-traveled river on the shore in a well-played park...I honored LETTING GO by using things that had been LET GO.
I admire the leaves of the oak that DO NOT LET GO...the wind may shake and pull and tear at them, shouting, "It...is...FALL...for...Pete's...sake...LET...GO!!!"
and they do not budge
they do not drop...or they try not to drop, and that is Stick-to-it-ness, isn't that.
I admire that trait in myself and others that stays with something until the very end, that voice that says, "Hell no, we won't go!" I love that about myself...I have to pry my own hands off of a project to make myself quit. I am an Oak in this way, though I am also more of a willow who has the ability to release, release, release, release
and never break...
I can bend and bend and bend and when the wind is done with me, I will spring right back, as though nothing untoward was attempted.
I am a Willow in this way.



I am this fragile leaf that is the veil that covers the Otherworld. I am the one who stands before it, waiting to Let Go. I am the one passing through it, and I am the one behind it, who has Let Go. I have let myself go from the tree in a Primitive Response...it is what I was made to do...I do it willingly, with little suspense or wonder. It was time to go. It was time to stop hanging on.
I must let go so that I might become something else on this new adventure...when I fall to the ground, what will become of me? Will I decay and provide food for that which released me in the beginning, without anyone noticing or wondering over me? Or will I float merrily down into the palm of some mystic woman's hand wherein she will touch me carefully, and sigh and place another warm hand over me and bring all of this to her chest and feel so thankful, so grateful for this old leaf? All things end. All things must let go.

And what OF letting go? What of it?
When we let go, we create space for others...when we let go of the expectations others have on us that no longer fit, we make room for our OWN expectations. When we let go of the burden that weighed us down, we make room for the the sun-rays to create wings on our backs instead. When we let go of that which does not work for us anymore, we make way for that which does.
When we retire old dreams, we create rooms (windows thrown wide, mind you) for our new dreams to be sewn together in.
We must release one in order to get the other...

I find myself at this moment of release, and I've known it for weeks (and perhaps months now). It is time for me to let go of the Sparrow that I've held onto for so long. This Sparrow that I've protected and guided and chided and cajoled and ran after and lost and found and broke and mended and put on public television and sold and bought and cried over and rejoiced over and held to my chest when too many people wanted to pick at her...(sigh)...I'm tired of having her out in public...she wants to come home now.
She no longer wants to be shared. This Sparrow has flown and flown until her wings are tired, and she is sore of the vultures pecking at her tender flesh. This Sparrow is old, and no longer wants to be tough-enough. She flies back to her warm little nest In The Woode where she belongs. It was time...a long time ago...
I don't expect a lot of whining or fanfare...she will go quietly, just as she came in...but I still mourn it, in my own way.
I stood outside this week when the rain was coming down as if it were spontaneously forming at every open space in the air around my body and not falling from a little cloud that floated above me. It collected in tiny droplets on the hairs on my arm and I was fascinated by it, and for some reason, it was then that I knew I had to let my Sparrow go. She wasn't out there in the rain with me anymore. She wasn't bursting forth from my chest with inspiration in that moment, she was back inside, old and needing warmth...I realized it was time to release her to make way for the new dream, and so I do...
You can read more about this here.





2 comments:

Laura said...

dear dear Katie,

I mourn with you too. You know how much your dear Sparrow meant to me, in so many different ways, ways I know you would understand. But as I sit before Into the Woode right here and see the vitality and life in the photos and the words, we know you were made for something more. So it's Welcome Home Ladye Sparrow, rest a while, while I step out of the door and Into the Woode.

I found this quote today on my calendar by Frederick Buechner --
"Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness; touch, taste, smell your way to the holy hidden heart of it because, in the last analysis, all moments are key moments and life itself is grace."

Love to you my friend,
Laura

sarah said...

I understand.

((hugs))