You know
She said
You lose more sand the harder you try to hold onto it
I felt baffled
Because
At 19 I had never heard of such things
And the concept of self-awareness was still far out of my reach.
But now looking back --
And seeing what is now --
I can recognize the ways in which
I have kept grasping
Only to come up empty.
My sense of perfection has little to do with wholeness
And instead futilely attempts to fill the "hole"-ness within me.
Twenty years later
I am left to ponder the question
"What does it look like to let go?"
I hold on even as the infinitesimally tiny specks escape between my fingers,
And all that is left is the fear and anxiety I started with.
But then I try again
And this time I breathe
And I open
To hold
Vulnerability, resilience, courage
Forgiveness
Grace.
I hold more but the weight is lighter.
I now see that it's more of a choice than an instinct or a reaction.
I can choose between
Right or relationship
Fear or connection
Control or freedom.
Yet even as I know this
There is still a part of me
That struggles to unfurl her grip.
On my better days
I can meet her face to face
And offer the grace she rarely received
Hold her small hand in mine
And let her know
That when she's ready...
She can let go.
