Something clicked

I forgot the word she used. Change. Transformation. Shift. Something along those lines, but she said she thought it was something major. 

For many years, people in your life have told you that you need to let go. An odd thing to be told over and over again in several states among various people in different phases of life across a lifetime. Yes, you agreed. And each time you thought you did so. You said the words to yourself in a friendly way. You screamed them at yourself in a ferocious way. You cried them to yourself in a desperate way. You wrote the words down. You offered it up in ceremony. You prayed, fasted, went without water, danced, bled, burned and suffered. Many times you thought you must have succeeded in doing so. You were close to death. You did the work. But nothing felt different. There was no release, no decrease in weight, no sustained change in the way you felt or moved in the world. 

Since then, you think you're coming to understand that maybe it's not something accomplished in one go (except maybe through death). Perhaps it's something you do gradually as you become aware of what it is you're holding on to. 

This morning has been filled with memories bubbling up from somewhere. Not only from childhood, but throughout my life. Episodes I'd forgotten or haven't thought about in years. 

Sunlight was streaming in through the kitchen window. I looked at the solar powered flower on the sill where she'd placed it. It hasn't moved in its cheerful way in a very long time. I picked it up and examined it. The plastic arms supporting the butterflies had become unattached to the mechanism within that makes the flower and the two arms move in synch. It was just a matter of lining up small pegs with small black holes in a black background and snapping them back into place. Not so easily done with tremulous fingers and failing eyesight. I turned it over to see if I might be able to pry it open and shed some light on the subject. When I did so, the center flower fell out. I hadn't used any force so I thought it would just be a matter of replacing it. Not so. It had broken clean off. 

Letting go means letting go of all that has passed. Everything. Even what you can't bear to. Especially what you can't bear to.

I moved toward the trash with it in my hand but set it down on the counter instead. I returned later knowing it was time to throw it out. As I tried to do so, I thought maybe I'll just save the flower. When I snapped off the last remaining bit of plastic stem, two of the petals came apart in my hand, as brittle as fallen leaves in November. I had to laugh. 

Alright, I surrender. I give you up.