The prying open of my last few fingers occurred last night. At first it felt sad, wounded and today it feels necessary, free. I'm sure the emotions will ebb and flow like with all things in life. But finally I'm living holding this situation, friendship, relationship, open handed. Finally.
It feels important to write about it. To commit to the paper the change that unfolded.
Sometimes I catch myself traveling through life meditating on all the things I think I deserve. And offering up thin, sparse gratitude. I'm terrified remaining in that way too long because it works at tightening the grip. Clenching around the things we hold, the things we have been given.
The things that we think belong to us. Which is tiresome and doesn’t make them permanent. And let me just say that the loosing of those fingers is painful and the process long.
To me living with open hands is a perspective and a practice. I find myself opening and closing my hands, stretching my fingertips out long and then relaxing them, a physical gesture. A small reminder that everything in my life is a gift, not permanent, and when I release my grasp the space allows joy to come rushing in. Especially when small disappointments find their way into my heart.
I want to hold onto thankfulness. Spend my energy there. Make my bed there. Drink from that well. Meditate on those things.
Today is important and full and in a way holy. Because I've finally let go... Perhaps not by direct choice, but it no longer belongs to me and even in that I can find gratitude. Because it is a perspective and a practice.