Welcome to the Gregorian calendar year, 2024. Why do I keep specifying the Gregorian calendar? Because my dear colleague Ricka reminded me of how many different calendars there are around the world. Many of us, depending on our cultural and religious heritage, live in two or more calendars at once. It’s such a good reminder that concepts of time differ across cultures, that there are many beautiful ways of being human, and that we can begin again at anytime, because we already are. Sending goodness to you, whatever it is you’re feeling at the top of the year.
Dear Friend,
Oak blooms in spring, grows taller in the warm summer light, and let’s it all go each fall.
After all that effort—sending nutrients upward as the snow melts, waving her perfect leaves at the high noon Sun as if to say, “tickle me!”, even after her green leaves become infused with precious gold—when the cold returns, she lets her precious leaves go.
The wisdom in letting go is that it creates empty space for new growth to emerge. Were Oak to hold tightly to her leaves, her canopy would become crowded. The old dried up leaves would shade out the new and prevent growth.
Maybe you and I are no different, even if we pretend we can hold onto everything, adding and adding and adding until we leave this Earth filled to the brim with the keepsakes of our accomplishments.
We find letting go so hard because the space between what we set down and what we have yet to pick up seems empty. The uncertainty makes us squirm. What we neglect to see in the gap between old and new is the certain fullness of possibility. We can count on life to fill in the empty spaces.
Letting go always takes courage. Even Oak, well versed in this practice, let’s go of her last few leaves tentatively. There is grief in letting go as much as there is relief in letting go.
Still, we must let go if we wish to embark on a new cycle of growth.
Prompt
What in you wants to be let go of?
What asks to be let go of to make room for what you long for?
In fact, what demands to be let go of?
Maybe it’s a belief about who you think you are. Perhaps a way of moving through the world that suppresses the vibrancy of your human spirit. Or an unconscious commitment to staying small because of a fear about what might happen were you to grow larger into your fullness.
Trust the part of you asking to be let go of.
Set it down gently. Thank it for it’s service. Tell it you no longer need it. It’s safe to move forward without it.
Walking alongside you this year,
Ryan
Shoutout to my coaching colleague and friend Megan Hadley who shared a beautiful excerpt with me about letting go that partially inspired today’s letter.
Beautiful and perfect reminder at this time of year. Thank you