Release And Begin Again

releasing, begin again, start over
Toa Heftiba

The sun sets to close the day. The night falls across the sky like a blanket, like a black strip of cloth over glass. The last twenty four hours are over—all the times you lost your footing, fell astray, made mistakes, hurt the people you love—gone. Isn’t that freeing?

I love the way the darkness brings an ending, and yet a beginning simultaneously. What’s old is in the past, what’s new will come. There’s freedom in that.

Tonight I have a burst of energy I haven’t had in a while. I love how life brings you those moments unconsciously. One second you’re ho-humming through your day, the next you’re hyper alert, breathing everything in.

Right now I’m breathing in the hope for tomorrow.
I’m exhaling my frustration, my stress, my anxiety.

I’m releasing. And beginning again.

And I think that’s such a simple, powerful revelation we often overlook. Sometimes we get so caught up in what happened that we forget we always have a chance to start over. We get so worried about people, about situations, about all the uncontrollables that we fail to remind ourselves of the power we have—to slow down, breathe, change our perspective, to begin.

I love the word ‘beginning’ because it brings so much hope. But I often fail to remember that a beginning can happen at any point. It can happen when I’ve hit rock bottom, when I’m broken, when everything around me is falling apart. It can happen when I’m scared, when I lose my way, or when the night falls and I choose let go of all the little moments of the day that have held me back.

Release and begin again.

How often do we consciously stop obsessing over all the things that are pushing down on our chests? How often do we close your eyes, pray, breathe, let the moment fade behind us as we look forward?

How often do we allow ourselves the freedom of putting down our baggage? Of stepping forward without all that extra weight?

Each day is an opportunity. Why are we so scared to grab ahold of it? Why are we hesitant, bringing forth all of yesterday’s anguish? Why do we convince ourselves we’re unworthy of a new chance, new start?

The sun fades bringing the evening and all its encompassing blackness. The day is done, moments passing in the rearview. But this is not to say that tomorrow will bring the same hopelessness. This is not to say that tomorrow will be a continuation of what was.

This is to say that the night blesses us with space to breathe, to let our pain lift from our chests and dance away with the stars. This is to say that the night gives way to the morning, and the sun can and will rise again.

So release what was, what is, what scares you.
And begin at the first light of dawn. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Marisa is a writer, poet, & editor. She is the author of Somewhere On A Highway, a poetry collection on self-discovery, growth, love, loss and the challenges of becoming.

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