Letting go can be difficult.
There often is, I think, the temptation to fight, to cling on to what we have. It is an understandable perspective. It is intuitive, I suppose, to see life as an ongoing game of tug-of-war. If you do not struggle, if you do not pick a line in the sand and dig your heels into it and fight back: you lose, without ever having fought. Sometimes, you lose what matters.
It is difficult to conceive of how to reconcile not holding on with the will to fight.
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I had a dream, last night.
I was in the park, by the sea. It was an expansive park, with short, scrubby sea-grass; a faded green, but still bright. The sound of the waves, crashing and breaking on the stark rocks of the shore. Sea wind ruffling my hair, tugging at my windbreaker.
A beautiful day: clear blue sky, no clouds. Absolutely no clouds at all: just the expanse of unmarred sky and bright sunlight.
I held a cage of birds in my hands.
Inside, the birds bunched together, strangely quiet, their feathers flashing a bright silver-grey in the sunlight. Rustling.
Then, I opened the cage door. Drew them out--gently--one by one. There was a light breeze. I grabbed them, and released them; let them go, bird, after bird, setting them adrift on the wind, watching them ride the wind up into the sky, effortless and free. Pale arrows.
They were beautiful, these birds. I didn't think of reaching out--futilely--after them. I didn't think of leaving one or two of them in the cage. They were beautiful, but they were wild things, and they had to be free.
That was it.
When I woke up, I felt better than I had in a long time.
-
It's difficult to explain the difference. You feel lighter; as if your insides have been clenched for so long and suddenly, you've let go. A knot has dissolved itself, has been sliced through--cleanly--by a shining, honed sword.
But that's what it feels like, I'd imagine, to be free.
