“You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.”
― C. JoyBell C.
As the sunshine spilled down on me, it felt as if the warmth was melting away an iciness that had taken hold of my bones for far longer than I had realized. All manner of cliches that you hear about washed over me – the weight from my shoulders was gone, I felt as though I could breathe better than ever before, and I couldn’t seem to wipe the genuine smile off my face. In a single moment I felt as though I had been let free from a cage I had been trapped in for years.
Such is the beauty of letting go. It can be anything that is holding you back, but once you’re free it’s as if the possibilities are endless. In my case, as I imagine happens often, I didn’t realize just how much I was being held back. In an instant I realized that for six long years, this had always been on the back of my mind and holding me back in a way I never could truly see. It’s as my wise cousin said, “now you can truly move on.”
Now you can truly move on – what beauty there is in that phrase. Those words provided another light bulb moment. I had been holding onto this small what if chance for so long that it ruled my thoughts in a way that was ever present without being in the forefront. Coming forth whenever I deemed it convenient. Letting it go means never again will I fall back on that comforting notion.
For the first time in a long time, the possibilities seem endless. It’s as though the world was renewed just for me and there’s a whole host of adventures awaiting me. I’m excited to discover just what they are.
“Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your destiny.”
― Steve Maraboli
“Do stuff. be clenched, curious. Not waiting for inspiration’s shove or society’s kiss on your forehead. Pay attention. It’s all about paying attention. attention is vitality. It connects you with others. It makes you eager. stay eager.”
I gulped down the last of my coffee and looked at her for a few moments without saying anything. I thought about how much I wanted to lose myself in those evasive eyes. I thought about the loneliness that would take hold of me that night when I said good-bye to her, once I had run out of tricks or stories to make her stay with me any longer. I thought about how little I had to offer her and how much I wanted from her.
I was taught that justice wears a blindfold, so as not to be able to distinguish between the colors, and thus make everyone equal in the eyes of the law. I propose we remove the blindfold from the eyes of Lady Justice, so for the first time she can really see what’s happening and check out where the truth lies and the lies hide. That would be a start.
Sometimes I just have a desire to write. To see where my thoughts and pen take me. Often it’s to my deepest secrets – the ones I don’t share with anyone. The ones I am afraid to admit to myself, and there is a beauty there that is unmatched.
My cousin once asked incredulously, “wow, so you really love writing that much?” when I told her I write regularly for myself. I do. I love writing; but it’s also that I often feel a need to do so. I writer will often tell you that. I believe that writers are the most mis-understood bunch. She couldn’t fathom that I enjoyed it so much that I would take my unpaid time out to do this for fun. Yet, that’s just what it is for me.
At times it’s fun. Sometimes it’s cathartic. Others it’s for a purpose, and sometimes it’s just like this – just a need to put pen to paper and release the thoughts. Perhaps that is what it is the most – a release. A release of all that’s inside that doesn’t get uttered into the air and landed upon ears.
It’s where I feel most comfortable. As a child and pre-teen, I would write letters to my parents when I had a problem, because writing it down felt more natural than saying it out loud. Time and age has made me comfortable with the saying it out loud aspect, but my inner most thoughts are still reserved for this medium.
Writing about a love of writing may seems cliched, but everything I’ve said is quite true to me. No matter what other aspect in my life I feel inadequate in, I know I can always come home to where I feel the most comfortable. Home is my pen, paper, and thoughts.
There are still souls for whom love is the contact of two poetries, the fusion of two reveries… To tell a love, one must write… Love is never finished expressing itself, and it expresses itself better the more poetically it is dreamed.