Sunday, January 16, 2011

Letting Go, Naturally

A little bug got me down, flat in my bed for most of the day. Being sick is not all bad. It is a chance for the body and mind, both, to let go, and to feel the spaciousness that inevitably comes from surrendering. 

Letting go . . . Not a state that comes to us naturally in our usual every day consciousness. It requires much practice, paradoxically.

Hearing Ruth's words, still:

How much are you clinging at this moment? Can you feel it in your heart? And can you relax, just a bit?

The hard work of letting go . . . 


  1. saw this recently, thought you might appreciate.

    You Have To Know

    You have to know
    how hard it is for caregivers
    to watch their loved ones
    fade away
    one pain at a time.

    You have to know
    how hard it is to see them
    do things for the last time.
    To stop doing things like
    making love and settle for
    a pat on the shoulder.
    You have to know.

    You have to know how hard it is
    to shop and cook and go to the chemo room
    and come home to hopelessness and dread
    and a life filled with “what if’s?”

    You have to know how long the road is
    and how cold the empty heart is when
    there is no more caregiving left to do.
    When you have outlived your job and
    find your hours idling on the vine.
    You have to know.

    You have to know that out of sorrow
    comes your own rebirth.
    How hard it is to watch yourself be a tiny
    embryo of hope; a toddler that falls into
    the coffee table and lurches into the street.
    You have to know.

    You have to know that hope is reborn
    when you have to know...because you do.
    You know that your only resource is within
    and that no one will support you until you
    begin to support yourself. So you begin again.

    You are caregiving your own spirit now.
    You have to know that God Himself is
    giving you another chance. That your
    loved one is within your heart and dancing
    at this chance you are given.

    The day you dance again is more than a pat
    on the shoulder. It is an affirmation of
    your own strength and courage. It is your ticket
    to eternity, your own knowing how the game is played.

    Not with a losing hand but with a winning spirit.
    Not with self-pity but with the grace of God.
    Not with hopelessness but an acceptance of
    the flow. That’s all there ever was and all
    there ever will be.

    You have to know.

    Vicki Woodyard

    Vicki Woodyard

  2. Oh! thank you! So, beautiful.

    Or the power of words to transform and give meaning to what can otherwise be a most heartbreaking, mind spinning, and body taxing experience . . .

    With metta,