We are really good at holding on.
From birth we learn to latch to our mothers, to hold hands, to be held, to snuggle close, to stay warm, to not get lost, to be safe [or give ourselves the illusion of safety]. But then we grow up and we have to learn to let go. But no one teaches us. And it is not our instinct. Our instinct is to hold hands, to be held, to stay safe. No one teaches us this, but it is becoming more and more apparent to me that letting go is the most necessary skill.
But how will we ever learn to not look for home around each and every corner?
Letting go may be the only way to find more. More homes, more love, more life. Uncurling our tight fingers and giving each a moment to feel the cool air that is moving. While fear may creep in, moving only happens here.
I used to believe that safety was a concept we told ourselves was better than it actually is. Who am I kidding though – being curled up in your safe home behind a locked door with only people you trust; nothing can beat the slow, calm of your heartbeat in those moments. The loss of safety keeps us from rest. And while we have learned to find fake safety to chill racing hearts, accepting the change from the secure is the muscle we need to strengthen.
We are not born with strong biceps and immense vocabularies, knowing multiple languages and rock guitar riffs. We are, however, born with the grand ability to hold tight, stay put, attach. The things we lack are the things that take work. Forward motion, letting go, giving space for new growth do not always come naturally or quickly. That space is wide open, full of scary, unknown, dangerous life.
I suppose it’s this space, the space between no longer and not yet, that explains what we are doing here anyway – actively existing.
I hear it’s quite beautiful if you can find it.
And I guess, we must teach ourselves where to find it.