Let go.

Before the “getting to” is always the “letting go.”

Kathryn A. LeRoy

Jan 28, 2023

A sunrise with the rays shooting out above a bank of clouds, the sun peeks out below the clouds creating a pinkish glow; on the horizon are trees, a field, and a white fence — Morning Sky © Kathryn LeRoy

Hello friends,

Every morning I walk out to the end of the circular driveway to pick up the newspaper. I have two options for this early morning jaunt. Turn to the left of the circle drive or turn to the right. Each provides a different view of the sky, trees, and birds.

On one bright sunny morning, the sky was a clear and brilliant blue. Without the clouds, no pink, coral, or golden streaks enticed me to turn to the right and marvel at the sunrise.

Instead, I looked up and saw a solitary leaf hanging tenaciously from the Japanese Maple. All the other leaves scattered on the ground, lifeless, but giving life to the earth and plants they covered.

A single maple leaf clings to a branch against a bright blue sky with limbs blurred behind it — Leaf © Kathryn LeRoy

On my return stroll around the circle, I noticed a few seed pods clinging to a branch of the Red Bud tree. All the other pods had long fallen and blown away.

Three dried seed pods cling to a short branch of a Red Bud tree with the blue sky and other limbs blurred in the background — Three Seed Pods © Kathryn LeRoy

While bits of nature struggled to let go, I came across the flowering magnolia with no leaves. But the bush held hundreds of tight, magenta buds waiting to blossom.

in the foreground a tight magenta bud of a flowering magnolia and in the background are other buds at varying stages against a bright blue sky — Buds © Kathryn LeRoy

Our lives are full of clinging, letting go, and arriving at a new place.

We leave our childhood home to set out on our own life. We watch children climb onto the big yellow school bus, and before you know it, pack the car to college or a new apartment. Daughters and sons walk down the aisle to begin new lives.

The cycle continues.

While inside the house, another form of clinging to and letting go takes place. You can call it clutter, junk, memories, or stuff. How it all accumulates with such vigor and tenacity is a puzzle.

Marie Kondo and other minimalists will give you more advice on decluttering than you would ever want to know. Since I possess this clinging tendency, I’ve read much of their advice.

But nature has already shown us what to do.

You will never get to the next thing until you stop clinging and let go.

There’s more in nature that can teach us about letting go like rain and a poem for letting go.

I’ve followed Leo Babauta for several years. Every post offers a new insight. Leo has sound advice for how to let go of any possession.

This week I discovered Kate Bush and her mesmerizing rendition of “The Fog,” a song about learning to swim—and letting go.

“To let go does not mean to get rid of. To let go means to let be. When we let be with compassion, things come and go on their own.”
—Jack Kornfield

“Your home is living space, not storage space.”
― Francine Jay

Find a little wonder this week, learn from nature, and maybe, let go of some stuff.

With gratitude,

Kathryn

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