On Letting Go

I’m not sure if I have shared this already but I really am loving it.

I’m personally working on letting go of my “plan”  and learning to live more in this moment. Easier said than done!

Let go of the ways you thought life would unfold
The holding of plans or dreams or expectations
Let it all go.
Save your strength to swim with the tide.
The choice to fight what is here before you now will only result
In struggle, fear and desperate attempts to flee from
the very energy you long for.
Let it go. Let it all go and
Flow with the grace that washed through your days
Whether you received it gently or with all your quills raised to defend against invaders.
Take this on faith:
The mind may never find the explanations that it seeks
But you will move forward nonetheless.
Let go and the wave’s crest will carry you to unknown shores beyond your wildest dreams or destinations.
Let it all go and find the place
Of rest and peace and certain transformation.

– Danna Faulds





I want to be a tree.

“Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”

Herman Hesse


Being 25

I found this post a while ago and since then, I probably read it at least once a week. It really resonates with me and I find it just absolutely beautiful. Read it…you won’t be sorry.

Being 25
Written by Bohemia and Bull

Being 25.

Some days I get frustrated. I look forward at the woman I’m bound to become — you know, the one who’s achieved all my dreams. She’s given birth, she teaches yoga, she’s refinished her home with vintage finds and copious amounts of elbow grease, and she owns her own business, oh yeah, she’s also madly in love — and guess what, this love actually lasted more than two years…most days, she honestly believes it is a forever.
And then I look around, at a living room that’s honestly still not even unpacked and I moved here 8 months ago. At my body that once again, skipped out on yoga class today. At my time, and how it seems that approximately 800% of it is spent on a company owned by someone else — their dream. And as for that everlasting love, well, I’m really not even convinced that it exists. Thinking of it hurts with a depth I can’t even begin to explore.
This isn’t me having a breakdown — that happened a few weeks ago. I walked to the end of the beach in the most beautiful place I’ve ever known, sat down on a big black volcanic boulder, and in my neon pink swimsuit, I cried. Without a soul in sight but the sky stretching for miles and miles until it hit the sea, I sat there and cried like I haven’t cried since I found out my best friend was moving across the country when I was 9. For over an hour, until my face was utterly ruined and my voice was hoarse.
I’m not really sure what came over me, just a good old fashioned dose of unadulterated fear. The kind of fear where you think about life and you think about death. You think of all the times you haven’t called home, all the phone calls you forgot to return, all the friendships that accidentally faded away when you weren’t looking, and all the times you’ll never get back, all the “i love you’s” that you thought were forever, like forever, forever. How you’re parents are starting to look older, and your brothers date girls that look the same age as you, and you don’t know all your sisters secrets anymore, and how you live so far away from home. The damn passing of time, the universal battle to try and maintain balance somewhere between the death of youth and the expectation of maturity.
Some days, I’m really motivated to become that woman in paragraph one. I know I’m on my way. I know that life is just a fight against my own self doubt, and you can’t really think twice about pressing sleep or going to yoga because when something is the right thing to do you just do it, god dammit. That’s being an adult.
And other days, I’m really awesome about doing that thing that like, every yogi, philosopher, blogger, mother, god or otherwise-guru preaches: be present. I’m perfectly content waking up on a Saturday and cleaning my house, going to a coffee shop with my best friend, wandering into an art gallery and then a flower shop because the sun is shining, and buying two new little baby succulent plants. We named them Theo and Pudge and fell madly in love with them and life as the sun set on the alleyway behind our tiny but hard-earned apartment. The horizon nearly as purple as the Malbec in our glass; yesterday and tomorrow completely irrelevant.
Then there’s the in between days, like today, where honestly, I’d rather being having a breakdown than to feel so blase about literally everything. Its days like this where I wonder, maybe its time to give all this up and make a giant terrifying leap into something else? What, exactly? I have a million ideas, but, I’m not sure which path will get me to the me I will become. I guess they all will, right?
…she took the words right out of my mouth.

Instructions for Freedom

I like this.

“Instructions for freedom”
1. Life’s metaphors are God’s instructions.
2. You have just climbed up and above the roof, there is nothing between you and the Infinite; now, let go.
3. The day is ending, it’s time for something that was beautiful to turn into something else that is beautiful. Now, let go.
4. Your wish for resolution was a prayer. You are being here is God’s response, let go and watch the stars came out, in the inside and in the outside.
5. With all your heart ask for Grace and let go.
6. With all your heart forgive him, forgive yourself and let him go.
7. Let your intention be freedom from useless suffering then, let go.
8. Watch the heat of day pass into the cold night, let go.
9. When the Karma of a relationship is done, only Love remains. It’s safe, let go.
10. When the past has past from you at last, let go.. then, climb down and begin the rest of your life with great joy.”
―    Elizabeth Gilbert,    Eat, Pray, Love