Some of us think holding on makes us strong, but sometimes it is letting go. (Herman Hesse)
I grew up with parents who held onto and saved everything. And we’re not talkin’ big things; we talkin’ pieces of string, miscellaneous scraps of fabric, hunks of wire, tangles of twisty-ties. Because — wait for it: you never knew when you were gonna need it. And you know, holding onto stuff worked, it was handy — my mom once created a whole fence for her cabin yard with pieces of string and sticks — kept the deer outa her garden and her dog from chasing said deer, by cracky.
I think I’ve whined before in these pages about a pesky sinus infection that, like an unwelcome guest, has moved in and shows no signs of departing. My fantasy is that I am holding onto something in my head that it would be better if I let go of. I’ve got lots of ’em, probably a lot more than I’m aware of — old grudges, negative thinking, sadnesses I could let go of, bizarre worries that plague me (I should do a blog about those sometime . . .) — makes for a rather “stuffed-up” head.
Indeed it does. Just let go, my friend.