Unleash, Let Go

When we can genuinely let go, we give permission for motion, pivot, movement, and even forgiveness.

The first half of our life is often a journey about acquiring and holding on. We long for security, safety, assurances he, she, or they will be faithful, our life will be steady, our purpose fulfilled. In my twenties, when I first intentionally engaged a focused spiritual practice, I learned terms such as detachment, egoless, and selfless. I thought—mistakenly—I had to let go of my desires, and as a Catholic Christian immersed in Western Mysticism, to “die to self.”

For many women, and someone like me, this appeared to be a natural antidote to tame my wild courageous soul. I needed to become submissive to God, and believed I must be obedient to the letter of the law. In part, for me, this was a natural and perhaps necessary response to my rebellious teen years. Much later in life I would compassionately understand how sexual assault and trauma affected me and created challenges and patterns of behavior that I couldn’t understand when I was younger.

I wish someone had carefully shared with me that my passionate response to life is my wholeness—especially when directed toward solution seeking, problem solving, delivering delight to others, and being an advocate for issues close to my heart when others are hurting.

Fields of fireweed flowers, Kenai Peninsula, Alaska | ©Pegge

In my 30s, I was receiving cranial-sacral treatments for chronic neck pain. I worked diligently to release tension, negative thoughts, sadness over broken dreams, unhealthy patterns, pockets of ache and energy locked in my body. One day the healer mentioned that the word release implies energetically that a “re” lease will take place at a future time. She offered that the better idea would be to use two words: let go. In that aha-moment, I realized how often we use the word release when we really intend to let go.

Pause for a minute to reflect. Can you feel or recognize the subtle differences between release and let go?

Molokai seasons | ©Pegge

I believe that there is an energetic imprint in the words we choose and the focus of our thoughts. A deep paradox exists: in order to let go, we must have a vision and maturing, grounded Self to hold onto—we choose, declare, and are present. Sometimes when we let go we must simply trust. In our lifetime, as we age, letting go may be a wave we ride. We let go of relationships, patterns of behavior, thoughts and actions, dreams, our children, loved ones, health, and sometimes cherished ideals which have become false idols. Some are of our own choice in the fullness of time, many may be circumstantial and happen to us. When we can genuinely let go, we give permission for motion, pivot, movement, and even forgiveness. We learn to be curious, welcome mystery and the unknown.

I wish I could share how painful and simultaneously liberating it can be to let go. And be there for you so you don’t feel alone in these times.

I wish I could explain how letting go is a moving through—a death and new life. And be there for you to celebrate and honor these times.

I do believe we offer our future self a favor when we finally surrender to the let go that may be paving the way to unleash us to our future delight. Letting go can be a simple action or defining commitment. We give permission for action to happen—we let “go” happen.

California dreamin’ | ©Pegge

While I was in Southern California, many beautiful let-go encounters accompanied me in the last days of 2023 and beginning of 2024, together with daily inspired writing. I’m excited about this Substack, creating a rhythm of life that will be foundational for my commitments, and what I declare I will accomplish this year.

While flying home from California to Alaska on Friday, after more than two weeks away, I planned to hone in on what I wanted to write about this week, month, and quarter for you, us. In my window seat, I bent forward, leaning down to retrieve my phone charger from my bag. Simultaneously, the person sitting in front of me pressed the little seat button and reclined back with a jerk. The seat wacked me atop my bent head, compressing my neck, and I yelped. The unexpected jolt offered me the start of a pounding headache, so I choose to rest the remainder of that flight, and the next one. I knew that I’d need a chiropractic adjustment on Monday and periodically gave myself healing touch to help with the fogginess and pain ridge spreading through my skull, neck and shoulders.

Arriving home in the evening, definitely ready for bed, I discovered a very chilly room with a failed thermostat, water dripping through a light switch and window sill corner through the tongue and groove wood wall. The leak combined with the headache and saturated carpet soaking my socks offered me a further challenge to be present, engage, and yes, there was a definite invitation to not blame and complain. Instead, I began to problem solve, do my best, let-go of what I couldn’t control, and give permission for action into what I needed to do.

The baseboard pipes circulating with hot water to heat the room had frozen in two places along an outside wall that we’ve identified—so far—and leaked all over the carpet. The weekend became an exercise in letting go of what I thought it would be as I made calls, identified resources needed, asked for help, got workers scheduled, friends to help move furniture, pulled up carpet, bagged wet padding and took it to a dumpster in-between shoveling some snow and puppy piling with the three labradors retrievers.

After the weekend of repairs slipped away, this evening I leaned into my promise to post every week. Not feeling inspired by any of the pieces I’d started while traveling, I turned to past Listen essays I’m revisiting. I giggled to myself that I’d written about letting go, neck pain, holding onto self, and choosing to go to a spot to be present. Originally written in 2013, I revised and added what you are now reading, and give thanks for its helpful reminders. I’m leaning into the 2024 winter in Alaska, physical challenges in my own body, and in the very structure of my home and business.

Evening reflections, Kenai River, Alaska | ©Pegge

I wonder what is frozen and blocked in me, what is thawing. I wonder what is calling my attention. I wonder what it may be time to really let-go of, and to welcome.

A meaningful poem I return to time and again offers assistance. The Persian poet Jalaluddin Rumi offers permission to be met and accompanied:

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other”
doesn’t make sense anymore.

Whether the one who greets us is the Divine lover in our inner heart, a soul-friend, a stranger, a four-legged, or the exquisite beauty in nature, we can often find our best self in a field such as this. It is in these times and places that we connect with our emerging future, a desire to savor life, the courage to let go, and move through to a place of commitment to life, to open the present moment.

When the soul lies down in that grass | image of Pegge by Christine Cunningham

In times like these, in fields like these, I discover spaciousness to breathe and be present. Perhaps you do too, and I wonder where your favorite spots are—both in geography or your inner imagination. These photographs are some of my fields, and in seeking them this evening, I found a sense of solace and connection. Oneness in time no matter the circumstances. Peace.

Thank you for journeying with me. Peace be with you in your let-go’s. Think about it … do not release what no longer serves you—you really don’t want it to boomerang back to you. Unleash. Let. Go.

Reflection sparks

• Where do you go to be still and let-go? Who or what meets you there?

• Is something in your life persistently bubbling up with an invitation or challenge to let-go? It could be an idea, belief, person, place, thought pattern, or attitude.

Gift yourself time to be still with your reflection, whatever it is. Write it down. Then, take it a little further. Imagine yourself six months from now, with this change being realized. Use your senses—what does it feel like? Choose one action that you can begin, that will bring this future into a reality. Make a declaration to yourself about what it is time to let-go of, and why this is meaningful to you now. *In our January live call for subscribers, we will go through this process!

Pause awhile, be still. Kasilof, Alaska | ©Pegge

Parts of this essay were initially published in Listen: A Seeker’s Resource for Spiritual Direction, July 2013, Vol. 7, Issue 3, page 1.