Tag: letting go

Just Try

I have lots of irons in the fire.

I like to have various projects in various stages and work on them bits at a time. Years ago, I worked at an antiquarian bookstore, and one of my jobs was to do rare and out of print book searches for customers. I created an index card file box I labeled “searches-initiated.” I had a second index card file box labeled “searches-with-some results.” A third file box held “searches completed-and-client-contacted-but-not-yet-final.” To cap it all off, I had a fourth–yes, a fourth–index card file box labeled “passing-through.” This last was for all those index cards where the books were picked up and paid for by the customer. In other words, done. My ostensible reason for the passing-through file was, what if the customer came back and needed some information that was only contained in that little index card? But the  truth was I wasn’t ready to let all that work go. The passing-through file was visual validation of a job completed.

Right now I have lots of writerly things out for consideration—a few articles, queries for books, a web site design, articles half-written and ideas for more. This full plate makes me feel like I’m doing something, but the thing I have a hard time with is, as I’m sure you’ve figured out, letting something go. Like many writers, I think something can always be tweaked. But when enough of these half-finished pieces pile up, I can get discouraged.

Discouragement is when I know I’ve been spinning my wheels long enough. It’s time to commit. Whether it is exactly right in my estimation or not, it’s time to let it go out for someone else’s estimation. It’s time to just try.

sprouting-seed

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Full Moon Dreams

This morning I woke up with the light of the setting full moon splashing over my pillow. It woke me from a dream about an old house I used to live in. In my dream I was looking for the house, but I couldn’t find it. Where it had been was now a strip mall and light industries. But it was just a dream.

In my real life—that is to say, my waking life—that house wasn’t just any old house. It was the place I fixed up for eight years. I glazed windows, sawed floorboards, painted walls, split wood, learned to farm, and grew most of my own food. It was a time of self-reliance and it taught me, that if I put my mind to it, I could do anything. So to dream that it was all gone, lost under a tide of human activity unconscious to the deeper forces that connect us to the earth and to each other—what did that mean? I also dreamt, within that dream, that my two best friends from high school were with me; even though one of them had committed suicide more than thirty years earlier and the other I haven’t had any contact with.

This dream could have easily been a nightmare, but it wasn’t. In the dream I felt some frustration and a little sadness that I couldn’t find my old house again, but I was not much distressed. I think the dream was telling me that even profound experiences and the memories they create have a limited shelf life within our psyches. It was time to let them—the old house and my friends—go. Whatever purpose their existence had had in my life was fulfilled. The memory was neutralized, no longer active. The pattern was completed.

Full moon dreams stir the depths, bringing them to light. And this full moon was showing me it’s time to stride ahead, confident and unencumbered.

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