Out with the Old, In with the New: The Process of Letting Go.

Via on Feb 20, 2016

Rebecca Lammersen for Yogalution Studio. (Allan Henry / ahenry.com)

“Mommy, you know what I’ve noticed? When you give things away, other things, new things come in. But! You can’t give things just to get new things.”


Letting go is giving—it’s a release, a donation to the universe of what is no longer serving a purpose in my life.

To let go is to arrive in a place where the unknown is more of a welcomed prospect than what’s known.

Letting go doesn’t come without soul shaking fear. It’s what drives the final decision and the initial action of giving.

To give back to the universe—what I’ve held onto so tightly—is courageous. To adopt an understanding that what I’ve let go of doesn’t belong to me—therefore, what the universe and that person chooses to do with my gift—is none of my business.

That’s the excruciating part, isn’t it?

I want to know the end of the story—or the beginning of the next chapter. I want to know how it works out, for me and for them.

But, when I give, I let go of the control—of the knowing. I am left floating in the void, in a space filled with anxious uncertainty.

What if I never know?

What if nothing ever fills it up and I exist in this black hole forever?

Should I have let go? Should I have stayed? 

It’s a struggle to live in the in-between and try not to fill it up, to distract or to go back.

This is the test—to determine whether or not I am strong enough to move on—to trust in her, the universe.

She is watching intently. She wants to see what I do next.

Ugh, I suck at this part. I would  do just about anything to keep from being in that zone, where there’s no branch to reach for, or hand to grab, or event to look forward to.

I panic as I survey the landscape–uninhabited by anything or anyone familiar.

That’s right where she wants me.

I’ve done the legwork, the giving part. That’s my signal to her that I mean business, even though I’m scared sh*tless, and all I want to do is crawl back to what was—take back my gift and go hide.

I can’t go back though. I’ve done this too many times to know how it works.

So, I need to remain calm—tame my worry and trust that she won’t leave me hanging. She never has, even my daughter recognizes that.

The in-between is necessary—it’s where I’m most vulnerable and awake.

My expectations subside. The unknown becomes my certainty.

My heart is wide open and unattached. She knows it—and when it’s time—something new will find its way in, and I will appreciate her generous gift.


Author: Rebecca Lammersen

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Courtesy of author, via Allan Henry 


About Alex Myles

Alex Myles is qualified as a Yoga teacher, Reiki Master, Teacher of Tibetan Meditation, Dragon Magic and a Spiritual coach to name just a few. Alex has no intention to teach others on a formal basis for many years to come, instead, she is collecting qualifications along with life’s lessons. One day, when the time is right, Alex will set up a quaint studio, in a quirky crooked building where she will breathe and appreciate the slowness of those days as life is just way too busy right now! Reading and writing has always been one of Alex’s passions. Alex likes to consider herself as a free spirit rather than a commitment-phobe. Trying to live as aligned to a Buddhist lifestyle as is possible in this day and age, she just does not believe in "owning" anything or anyone. Based on the theory that we ‘cannot lose someone that was not ours to lose’ she flails through life finding joy and magic in the most unexpected places. Mother to a 21 year old daughter and three adorable pups, she appreciates that some of the best moments in life are the 6am forest walks watching the dogs run, play and interact with one another and with nature. Connect with her on Facebook and check out her blog, Love and Madness. 


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