Cont’d from Seeing is believing in ‘letting go’ process 1-30-10
“Letting go” is a process I thought I had completely bought into when I “gave up” trying to control things and had surgery done on my eye.
But, here I was, more than two weeks later, having used that one contact lens in my good eye, the right one, and it had torn. I wore that sucker three or four days with the tear. Got a slight irritation, but I’m on a fixed income now, and I didn’t want to pay for a new one. In addition, it would have taken longer ordering through the eye facility next to the Target Pharmacy, then to see the optomitrist to get a new pair of glasses.
That is, if you had the lenses to provide the doctor with. I gave up my search for the glasses, got into my car and drove away from my house, hoping I could get a completely new pair. After all, I did have a detached retina operation, as well as two in-office laser surgeries. So what if I was careless in not saving my spectacles. Surely, someone could offer a little compassion for this tired old veteran. (Me!)
I worried about the lost glasses about half-way through my drive. Had to give up a store-bought cup of coffee because I spent my “cushion time,” you know, that extra time you give yourself for an inevitabe screw-up (also known as Murphy’s Law “Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong“), in a wasted effort to find the glasses. Didn’t have time to stop at MacDonalds. Had to travel without that caffeine, and you can imagine how that feels in the morning. But, by the second half of the trip my meditation practice kicked in. I “let go” of my anxiety. “Whatever will be, will be” became my mantra.
I arrive at the hospital with only a minute to spare. Let’s give a final look for those glasses, I say, stretching toward the floor of my car. No, not beneath the passenger seat, the front or the back of the seat. Let me look under the front of the drivers’ seat. No. Now, let’s take a look at that seat from the back seat view. I get out of the car, open the left rear door, kneel down and remove two pens lodged between metals parts on the side of the seat. The right side. The same side where I last saw my glasses in the jacket pocket.
What’s this? I say, as my hand glides over another plastic object that feels vaguely like another pen. Wait! It’s too thin to be a pen. It has a bend at the one end.
Well, what do you know? My glasses. There they are. Stuck in the right side beneath the driver’s seat in a spot you could only get to by looking and reaching towards from the a position at the rear of the car.
“Letting Go” does not come naturally to me. It is something I have to work at. So, too is the required faith I need to believe in the magical process that manifests when you truly do “let go.”
Now I got new frames with a new stem and a new “outlook” for hope in my life.
Dance. Let Go. And eventually it will all get easier. You’re words are always a comfort and I turn to them when I need it. Somehow, the right post appears at the right moment. Thank you for that.
You are growing on me too.
Letting go is one of the hardest things to do. Congratulations on your effort and final discovery.
One way that helps me is to consider something valuable to you, for instance, your glasses, as already broken.
In that way, it becomes considerably easier to let go.
Namaste (and a bow to you)
I will use this clever idea the next time I misplace something. Treat that something as already broke, and when (or if) it reappears, you find a little more joy that day.
Sunryo. Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?
Sure have… thanks for your comment on my blog recently.
Very good description of a letting go process. We can feel the anxiety and finally, the will to relax. You say you find it hard to let go.. but you are practising. 🙂
They say that “practice” makes perfect. Don’t need “perfect.” Just give me steady and reliable ability to “let go.”
Like crossing a deep canyon by walking on a tight-rope wire. But it’s true–the thing to do is to never look down, and somehow you’ll find that you really know how to do it. It just takes a little time to get used to it.
I’m glad you found your glasses, too. It drives me crazy when I lose mine, and therefore can’t see well enough to find them! Such a feeling of relief when that vague object you sort of see and reach out to feel turns out to be them!
Time to get used to it . . .
like walking over a canyon on a tight-rope wire.
Usually without a net. Or the misplaced set of glasses.