There is a state of being that we often strive for: being in control. And when we get there, we congratulate one another for reaching this sublime state of order. We’ve got it together. We design perfect plans. We make it happen.
During the holidays, in the cold, damp of winter, with more to do and less daylight to do it in, we often construct elaborate plans with even greater zealousness. There are usually more people involved, so the circle of our control must widen. It is more difficult managing the complexity of other people’s lives, but we plan well, we communicate thoroughly, we are “in control”.
And then something happens. Perhaps something small. Some one changes their mind. Or perhaps the quixotic nature of things presents itself. A flight is cancelled or someone gets snowed in and suddenly all our planning, all our effort and best intentions, come screeching to a halt. It is easy to become disappointed and in this disappoint be reminded of others, of the ways in which people have failed us, life has thwarted us.
But there is another story here. A story about letting go. We can know that we did the best we could to make our desires known, to make something possible. And we can know too that we are not in control. The world and its inhabitants have ways of opening and closing that we can neither predict nor plan are way out of it. But this is good news. What fun would life be for us if we always knew in advance everything that was going to happen?
So take a big, wide, exuberant gulp of air and let go. Take another breath and notice the world around you, the music of the rain, the odd elegance of your thumb, a stranger’s smile. By letting go we allow a sense of ease in our bodies, in our lives, and in our relationships. It is when we are here, in this place of openness, that the world can show up in all its mystery and magic, that the people in our lives are free to be themselves. And they are radiant in that freedom. We all are.
