Letting go

The fall leaves are in layers on the ground in front of the house. Seeing our beautiful tree bare again has me thinking that it’s like a visual representation of what I’ve been going through.

The fall leaves are in layers on the ground in front of the house. Seeing our beautiful tree bare again has me thinking that it’s like a visual representation of what I’ve been going through. As if the tree is trying to shed all that is painful in order to further its growth. I can’t help but to think that it looks so sad when its leaves have fallen and it is no longer full of color and life, but what if I’m looking at it all wrong? What if it is quite the opposite?

Photo by Claus Grünstäudl on Unsplash

In order for us to move on in our lives we have to be able to let go. To let go of the people, places, and things that have hurt us and continue to do so. At the time we may feel that our hands are tied, or that we can’t go on without someone or something in our life, but I assure you we can and we will. We just have to make the selfless decision that our overall health is what is most important, not what is societally correct or expected.

Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.

Hermann Hesse

What if we could let all of that stress and heartache go? What would life be like then? I don’t have the magic potion or the scientific formula to make this happen, but much like the tree, we must become a blank slate. A bare tree looks so beautiful in the spring when it starts to get its new growth. And each tree is individually beautiful as they flourish at their own rate. We too flourish at the time of growth. And, sometimes it seems you have to lose something in order to gain everything.

I’ve lost a lot over the last several months, and by choice I’ve walked away from even more. At one point I thought my heart might stop beating from being shattered into a million pieces, but I can’t let that be the outcome. Instead, I try to remember that it’s left me a blank slate. A canvas in which I decide what colors to paint, what art to draw, or where to place. I’m as solid as the tree just shedding my pain, looking to renew and grow. I won’t mistake this for sadness anymore. It’s my art. It’s how I choose to see the world that counts. I choose to carry hope with me instead of pain.

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