“Just how much do you want to lose this year?”

I was not expecting the question. I been waiting for this appointment with the astrologer/tarot reader for six months. When I made it, I was still living with my then-husband, seeking the kind of clarity that can only come from completely inexplicable forms of new-agey divination. When everything is spinning toward the edge of everything I know, therapy and self-help just doesn’t cut it anymore. Give me tarot cards and crystals, tell me how the stars see my future; when nothing is certain, only those things that cannot be dis/proved will keep me on the rails. I suppose that’s my version of having faith.

Anyway, the question. Between the time I made the appointment and the day I had it, I’d “lost” (the way most people would see it) a marriage, a home, my primary pastime (bike racing), and possibly a few friends in the split. So, probably a lot. And I really didn’t want to lose any more, not at that point. I’d carefully pared down to the things that really mattered to me, thank you, and I’d like to keep the rest of it as intact as possible.

The meeting was several months ago, and I hadn’t thought of it again until now. I only remember now because my best friend moves today. Not too incredibly far, but closer than the hop, skip, and jump we were up to this point. It’s a big change, another thing that fits neatly into the “loss” column on my spreadsheet, were I keeping track.

The reader’s point was that if I didn’t want to lose any more, I needed to sit back a little and let life unfold. No more white-knuckled attempts to control my path; it was time to give up and ride the current a little ways. I guess I used to think of letting go as a form of loss, but it doesn’t have to be. I’ve worked on just being alive without forcing things the way I have always tried to.

Saying yes even if I’m not sure I’ll like something.

Saying no if I don’t want to do something, even if I might let someone down.

Letting the current sweep me away when something isn’t working.

I feel surprisingly powerful in not making decisions about things that don’t matter. It’s liberating to admit that I don’t care about everything, and don’t have to  know exactly what is going to happen in order to enjoy something. It’s enough to just enjoy it.


3 thoughts on “

  1. Where to start? Your blog post pulls me to responding in both, a soft gentle voice that reassures you that things will be okay … and in a whimsical way because I am picking out words that catch my eye.

    I will start with the whimsy. *see’s the word “spreadsheet”* That you mentally track or not track is not what caught my eye. But the word “spreadsheet” itself. My friends all know I have a … a goofy affinity for spreadsheets. You can read that as…”nerd alert” ..*smiles*

    Whimsy #2. Well, not so much whimsy … more a question. You mentioned bike racing. May I ask why you said you lost it? (I love biking … so that caught my eye. It is my hope that this past time you have given up is something you can take up again in the future.)

    Other stuff. Letting go … saying yes to new things…possibly scary new things … dropping those things you know you do not wish to do. Sometimes you have to think of yourself nod nods. Sometimes you take comfort in a nice box that surrounds you and comforts you … sometimes your break out of it. Life goes on … and it can still be grand if you allow it. And I think you are doing a the best at it that you can. *smiles*

    • Thanks for the kind words. I do know that things will be okay; thank goodness I haven’t ever doubted that, or lost sight of how fortunate I am. But, I’m also learning.

      Geek chic forever!

      I lost bike racing for a few reasons, but mostly that it was time. I didn’t have the energy to devote to it anymore. It’s not a bad thing, really; at first I was really disappointed because I’d worked so hard & been forced out by my heart issues, but now it is a cool thing that I did for a while.

      • Ahh, nods on the heart issues. Whether you can one day go back to riding, if just for leisure’s sake I do not know. But the memories of it sound like they comfort you…and that is a yah.

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