Sunday, January 29, 2012

She Let Go..



I spent a few hours weeding in the garden today.  It was a beautiful day for that kind of meditative work.  The East Village was quiet and I was alone.  The garden thinks it's spring, so as I worked peach blossoms floated on the wind into my hair.   The flower bulbs have come up and the hyacinth I planted in memory of my grandfather is in full bloom. 

The goal was to weed an area just outside my plot which had become overgrown with 'nut grass'.  For those non-gardeners out there, this is a hardy weed connected by a nut-type root.  It sends out underground branches which can continue on for forever, sending up grass and squeezing out anything else in its path.  Inevitably, if it’s NEAR your garden it will be IN your garden momentarily. 

There's been a lot of rain the past week and the ground was still soft, so these normally determined weeds were coming up easily.  The grass, roots and nuts were just giving over to me.  That got me thinking about something that keeps coming up in my new meditation practice: the reoccurring theme of ‘letting go’.  Sometimes in the Dharma talks it's followed by the words, “of attachments”, but not always. 

In all honesty, I’m not a good “let’er go’er”. 

I’m the keeper of family history, belongings, traditions – even recipes!  I’m sentimental and have long friendships.  I'm loyal. I tend to stick by people, running alongside them, cheering them on at times - even when they can’t believe in themselves or us.  I’ve done this in professional relationships, friendships, and love affairs.  I’ve even, sometimes, been thanked for the belief and persistence - for being the one not willing to let go.  

But, it gets confusing to me, this idea of 'letting go'.  As I pulled up that nut grass this morning, the sweet smell of the hyacinth found its way to me bringing back memories of my grandfather.   Does not letting go of sentimental feelings hold me back?  I absolutely know people who are not "sentimental".  Or at least claim they aren't.  Are they better in mind, heart, and soul for that?

What does it really mean to LET GO?  Or likewise, what does it mean to be let go?  How do you let go of being let go?  In particular, how do you let go of attachments to people without becoming heartless or sterile or robotic?   That last part confounds me the most. 

Where does the heart have a say or a place?

However, when it comes to releasing fear or pain or hurt, I get it.  I'm not good at it yet, but I get it:  the goal is to yield like that nut grass did today.  As those weeds were giving over to me, I thought of something I'd read recently which feels like a sort of freedom:
  
"She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go. She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the 'right' reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go……Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go. There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn't good and it wasn't bad. It was what it was, and it is just that. In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore." - Ernest Holmes




Friday, January 27, 2012

oops...

...I hatched another Monarch in the loft.  


I accidentally brought a chrysalis home on some rosemary the other day.  Luckily I caught it before it found its way into a roasted chicken!  I meant to return it to the garden, but days passed as those things do and this morning a beautiful Monarch greeted me in my closet, where I had ferreted the rosemary and her chrysalis away out of my kitten's grasp.

She has no spots on her wings, so this one is female.  She clearly had time to stretch her wings, but had only moved a half a foot from her chrysalis - funnily enough clinging to a wooden plaque I have with the British wartime advice of "Keep Calm and Carry On".  Still the poor thing must have been confused in the dark.  I guided her into a jar and took her back to the garden where after a few minutes pondering the milkweed plant, she tried her wings out. 

What a blessing to witness her very first flight... wobbles and all.  She flew 25 yards and landed on some fern. 

I think she'll be just fine.