"Anything you can't control is teaching you how to let go."
~Jackson Kiddar
This summer has been an interesting exercise in letting go, letting go of control. I really like things planned out - to know what to expect, to be prepared, to have things figured out, before I take the leap. I've often said, I rarely fail, because I don't even think about doing things that I may fail at - control?
One evening a couple of days after the one year anniversary of my mom's death, I sat on the deck watching a storm come in. I saw the clouds moving from the west across the sky, bringing wind, and dust. I watched the evergreens in the neighbors yard sway, noticing their flexibility as the wind passed through them again and again. I made myself comfortable on the couch, turned on my brother's Spotify station, and listened to his surf music. The deck became a wooden planked raft on the sea of newly cut grass. Pollen, dust, and heavy raindrops blew through the deck and pounded the grass.
This is where I would have stopped, would have controlled, would have gone inside, out of the storm. And yet I decided to let go, surrender to the storm, and be present.
It was an incredible storm; I watched the gray clouds move by, the sea of grass stand straight, and the watered bushes sparkle with the now evening sun, shining on them, again, from the west. And to my east, the storm was gone, dissipating as it moved through the canyon, over the mountains.
I had made it through the storm, I didn't control it, I let go and observed, and in being the spectator I learned I don't have to walk away to control, I can let go, and allow the waves to take me wherever they may.
Transition here -
So when it came time to plan our family vacation, and one of the places we wanted was no longer available, my natural urge was to "figure things out." And, eventually, the simple answer was, "get another place." And then figuring out meals with only a tiny fridge and a microwave - the answer was, "no biggie, simplify," and we had great meals and too much food. I let go of any expectations of crafts and games (even though I brought an entire tote of these), because disappointment is not an emotion I like to carry with me. And another storm ridden through, observed, delighted in.
However, as calm as I could be about expectations -
Our car died on our way to Idaho the end of July, died as we coasted into the Hyundai dealership in Idaho Falls, but was failing from Blackfoot on. And there wasn't a damn thing we could do, and the only fault was that of Hyundai's team that created failing engines, and we spent three hours with local folks figuring out how to get on to our family vacation, how to get our bikes there (brand new trailer hitch and bike rack on the car), how to get the car fixed, etc. And as Scott listened, I controlled the one thing I could, my approach to these strangers who were also our rescuers (6 months to replace, in Idaho).
We left the dealership with a handful of new friends, a pickup, our bikes, and only a few hours of lost time.
We were able to enjoy our bikes on a couple of "rail to trail" rides, and the time in Idaho was delightful. As we rode through potato and wheat fields, sagebrush and golden sunflowers, surrounded, right and left by fields panoramic views of the Tetons, trestle bridges used only by bikers, looking into green-drenched canyons cut deep by streams, enjoying being together, leaving control behind and allowing the moments to guide us.
The rest of the summer has been similarly - thankfully, joyfully, experiencing, not enduring.
A few weeks ago I was sitting outside with a friend, when another storm came through. We made the decision to sit and watch. As the wind blew through the trees, and the dust colored the sunset, I looked west - and the sky was a brilliant blue, through the trees the bright pink sun was winking at me. Another storm - learning to stay.
My lesson is this - letting go, choosing to let it go, is damn freeing, and yet it is a type of control, surrender to win, is that same control, choosing when to control, when to win, when to walk away, when to stay the storm.
Scott was totally enjoying this drunken dude's dancing.
He definitely endured this storm.
