When I was in therapy for those oh so many years, my therapist recommended a little book of daily affirmations called, The Language of Letting Go by Melody Beatty. It helped me every single day to let go of things that didn’t serve me in my life. It helped me develop an “attitude of gratitude” about the smallest things. I used it until the pages wore away and I let go of things that were holding me back: codependant relationships, fear of failure, fear of success, insecurities, sadness. Then one day that I don’t remember, I put it away. I didn’t want to let go anymore. I had let go enough.
I moved on.
Last Saturday, I moved from the place that had nursed me through letting go. I sold my rustic bungalow houses, art that I had installed in the coastal jungle of Tulum, Mexico. Although I had wanted to move from that place for ages and the sale allows me to build my yoga studio, I am having a hard time letting go. There was so much good that happened inside me there, even if the outside stuff was hard and sometimes difficult. I grew with my little tropical garden. The animals I lived with nurtured me while I nurtured them. The loneliness of being disconnected from most everything allowed me to connect with myself. There was a poignant beauty that colored every hardship.
But things change. As I grew, my life changed too. I eventually had solar electricity for light and refrigeration, even a fan on those sultry hot nights. So did my neighbors. People visited and loved my places and the place: Tulum. I finished my art houses one by one and finally started renting them. My neighbors either followed or were just ahead of me. My little sanctuary and purgatory all in one became popular and accessible. And since I am not a very popular or accessible person, I followed my urge to sell and do something else. But since the moment I gave the new owners my key and reminded them to put food for the feral cats like they promised, I have been looking through my boxes for that little book. You never outgrow the need to let go.