Things To Let Go Of.
Sometimes in order to be the really good shit you know you are capable of being you have to let go of some less good things first.
There is something about watching the leaves on the trees I walk under turn pale, preparing themselves for the glorious shades of orange that they will soon become before releasing themselves from the branches that they clung to in order to float gloriously—in their finest and ripest orange and gold hues—through the sky that thrills me. “Free at last!,” I think. ”You will be soaring soon.”
It makes me consider the things I should release, too.
A random list of things I’m letting go of, in no particular order:
My fear that people will think I’m overdressed.
The urge to say “Koko, you look like a slut,” as she rolls onto her back whenever anybody appears even mildly interested in petting her and enthusiastically spreads her hind paws .
Last year’s Thanksgiving leftovers (from my freezer).
Thinking that my immediate reaction to anything is, or should be, where I finally land on that topic.
That friend who never initiates contact except when her husband cancels on her for the symphony last minute and only because she doesn’t want to go alone. (Bye, Amanda. I’ll miss the Bach, but you? Not so much.)
Any reluctance to go alone to anything I want to see, hear or do because I’m worried I’ll look pathetic.
Keeping track of how many consecutive days my neighbor is dressed in black spandex leggings.
My anger at my Mother for not having seen things she didn’t want to see when I was a child.
Guilt over missing a strength training work-out. Or even a month or year of strength training work outs.
Feeling like I should applaud bad performances out of fear that it was actually brilliant but I just didn’t understand it.
The idea that I could give up cheese.
The impulse to respond to every text asap.
The fear of rejection (or failure) that keeps me from reaching out.
The super hot shoes in my closet that are a half-size too small.
Advice from Gwyneth Paltrow.
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