Giving up? Or merely letting go?

We must be willing to let go of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us. –Joseph Campbell

A Song of What Will Be

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Daniell Koepke, founder of the Internal Acceptance Movement, speaks of the wide gap between what it means to give up and what it means to let go, to accept things as they are. She says, "There is a big difference between giving up and letting go. Giving up means selling yourself short. It means allowing fear and struggle to limit your opportunities and keep you stuck. Letting go means freeing yourself from something that is no longer serving you. Giving up reduces your life. Letting go expands it. Giving up is imprisoning. Letting go is liberation. Giving up is self-defeat. Letting go is self-care."

We've probably all struggled at some time or another with this difference and often our unwillingness to let go is a sign that we see that act as giving up, as failing to live up to our own standards or promises. We don't see letting go as an opportunity to change for the better or to move on to a greater sense of self-worth or happier relationships. Particularly when it comes to relationships, we have a tendency to cling to the past, even to romanticize or idealize them. Letting go of someone we have loved intensely, someone WE chose, seems both an admission of failure and a betrayal of a love we promised would be everlasting. Too often, even when someone breaks our hearts, we just cannot make ourselves let go. We lie to ourselves, in fact, calling our determination to stick it out even when the relationship is brutally demeaning an act of hope. 

I've watched friends hold on to relationships that were abusive, destructive and completely unfulfilling. I've stayed with relationships myself that totally undermined my self-esteem, convinced me that I was not "good enough" to merit a fully loving and intimate relationship. I've rationalized the choice to stay as the result of how I was raised, the way my Church defines love as all giving and no getting, self-sacrifice, and loving without expectations. To expect something from another is selfish love - or so I was led to believe. I've continued to love through hurt after hurt and comforted myself with the idea that I was a person of my word, faithful to my promises. That's all well and good but cold comfort when all one has at the end of the day - or a life - is a chimera.

But through all that I've learned a lot of valuable lessons and I hear the same thing from others who have finally been able to let go of the past - whether it involves a relationship, a career failure, a loss of a friend or loved one, a pet, or even one's long lost youth. Says American Buddhist teacher, Jack Kornfield, "To let go is to release the images and emotions, the grudges and fears, the clingings and disappointments of the past that bind our spirit." To let go is to release our spirit to soar and dive, to find its own heights and depths. To let go is to believe in a future that is "more." To let go is to forgive not only the "other" to which we cling, but ourselves for not having the courage to untie the ropes that have bound us to the past.

So it's important not to confuse giving up - on a dream, a relationship, a goal - with letting go and moving on to what is still possible, to becoming who we were meant to be. While this post is primarily about relationships, the same truth applies to our efforts in other areas of life too - our art, our careers, our lifestyle and health choices. We can't keep repeating the strategies of the past that did not work and expect them to work the next time! Don't give up - but do let go of what is not serving you. When I first tried to take this lesson to heart and put it into practice, I wrote this poem to express my willingness to finally "let go."

A song of what will be.

I released the anchors around a heart

that long tied me to a clouded past,

to heartache, need or suffering,

unknotted sturdy ropes that bound me

to a dock of mournful memories.

I've felt the churning chaos of life's storms,

wild whitecaps of my search for self,

endured those times I was becalmed,

adrift in open ocean without breeze

or sight of islands of safe refuge.

But now, as if by heaven's gift

I feel the westerlies begin to rise,

to clear ghostly cobwebs from the deck;

winds fill white sails to billowing,

and give gentle lift to my silvered hair.

I see myself standing at the helm

with new confidence and clarity,

a bright vision in my eager eyes

of inspiring ports of call to find

before life's journey ever ends.

With prayers to some universal source

as I set my course for parts unknown,

I imagine new horizons I will find

and give thanks for all my future joys.

STOP...how to make room for happy

There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty to be happy.

By being happy we sow anonymous benefits on the world.

Robert Louis Stevenson

I don't usually do this - and to tell the truth - Blogger doesn't let you easily reblog someone else's post like WordPress does. But I thought this post was so important that I should pass it along with only a very little commentary (and not to bore you, but I do have another prose/poem to go with this topic!)

I've made the point before and will again in the poem below, that we choose who and how we'll "be" in the world. We can choose love or indifference, hope versus despair, optimism versus pessimism and happiness versus discontent or sadness. We can alter our stance toward life and others by our conscious desire and thoughts to do so. But...while I absolutely agree that we can change ourselves when we cannot necessarily change others or change the circumstances in which we find ourselves, there are, nonetheless, certain things we absolutely have to stop letting other people do to us if we are to even have a chance to choose happiness. In these cases, "choosing" happiness involves modifying our external circumstances at least in terms of how we allow others to create negative situations for us. Marc Chernoff in the blog "Marc and Angel Hack Life" has this list of 20 things to stop letting people do to you.  

And even though it's not up to other people to "make" us happy, it is entirely possible that we are allowing others to make it impossible for us to choose happiness. Check Chernoff's list to see if you're permitting anyone to get in the way of that choice for yourself. No one can be a victim who refuses to be one and Marc's advice is to absolutely refuse to let anyone treat you as if you are one. I think you'll find it a worthwhile read - if not for yourself, then perhaps for someone you care about who doesn't seem to be able to choose happiness. 

What is happiness you ask me? 

It may seem odd to approach 

such a seemingly easy subject from the negative, 

but it is easier to begin with what it is not. 

It’s not love – though it can lead to it or come from it. 

It’s not joy – which is a breathtaking kind of elation 

born of full awareness, 

an enlightened sense of the rare 

and unique beauty of the present moment. 

Happiness is not found “out there,” 

in the grasping after or ownership of things or persons. 

It’s not something earned or won like fame or fortune. 

It’s not some romanticized quality of life 

represented by trilling bluebirds or colorful rainbows. 

It’s not something you get; 

it’s something you are 

and something you choose.

Happiness, like love and joy, 

is a state of being one chooses for oneself 

regardless of circumstance or luck. 

It’s a softening and an opening 

of one’s heart and soul 

that empties them of dissatisfaction, 

sadness and regrets and makes room 

for love and joy to fill them up. 

It’s a kind of calmness rather than giddiness, 

peace of mind and spirit rather than elation. 

It’s a contented sigh rather than bawdy laughter. 

Happiness is a general cheerfulness about life 

and a gentle sense of satisfaction with who you are. 

It’s a stance, a posture we assume 

in the face of difficulty or hardship, 

a view of life as more good than bad, 

more hopeful than despairing.

Choose happiness...and then 

allow it to just be.

Feeling shipwrecked???

When an inner situation is not made conscious,

it appears outside as fate.

Carl Jung

All That Remains

 http://fineartamerica.com/featured/all-that-remains-lianne-schneider.html

Ever feel as if your life is a shipwreck...perhaps just today, or for a week or even months at a time? No matter how well prepared you thought you were for life, for parenthood, for your career, for a relationship...things just seemed to fall apart all at once. It hardly seems fair when you've tried so hard to do it all and do it right. A great many people struggle every day with all kinds of depressive disorders because they felt hopelessly shipwrecked on some deserted island with no help or hope in sight. 

Artists often address this kind of emotional shipwreck in darker paintings perhaps where they can make such pain visible. Poets, of course, have throughout history done the same. As you will see in a moment - I've done both - but not for the purpose of merely expressing the feeling of being abandoned by the fates or the universe or God. Rather it's to offer hope and remind ourselves that courage in the face of hardship is not what we usually think of - a lack of fear - but rather a willingness to stand up and try again, no matter how afraid we are. There's an old Asian saying, "Fall down seven times, get up eight." That's pretty much the way it goes...and that's okay. The only possible failure is the failure to try to make something from all that remains after the shipwreck.

ALL THAT REMAINS

At times, all that remains

of the graceful, promising ship

in which we once set sail,

onto which we had bravely loaded

and entrusted our adventurous dreams,

provisioned with the sparkling

citrus of hope, the ballast of reason,

is a rotting hulk cast upon some

lonely shore, beached and broken,

darkening with age and petrifying

with desperate abandonment.

We misread the silent stars perhaps,

encountered reefs that were unmapped,

were blown aground with the violence

of the fierce and unexpected hurricane,

the savage force of events and emotions

that whipped the sea to gray-green foam,

the perfect storm against which our ballast

was of little weight or counter-balance.

Here we’re stranded far from home,

even farther from where we thought we’d be,

our hulls splintered, ribs spread wide,

exposing all that we’d possessed.

But there are always treasures

to be gleaned from every shipwreck,

salvaged from the bones of shattered past.

We reclaim what is essential to survival

convey it all inland bit by bit, to an interior

place away from tides and undertows.

We collect from the jetsam what tools we can

to construct a shelter for the present,

to build a boat for some tomorrow –

keep the unbroken planks of wisdom

as foundation for what we can create,

the pegs of persistence with which

to connect the pieces into some new form,

the coiled rope of quiet courage,

the astrolabe and compass of our values,

with which to do our daily reckoning,

the parchment maps on which to mark

the errors of our previous course,

and with fresh insight plot anew

the way to yet dreamed of destinations

beyond the clouded horizon we see now.

We’ll roll the mainsails for a covering,

yet one day watch them unfurl again

filled with the brisk winds of bright new hope.

And when we go at last from here,

we’ll take with us a different treasure

than the gold we’d brought aboard at first -

new jewels of faith and fortitude,

the valued currency of courage.

We’ll leave behind not some worthless hulk

but a story written on that distant shore

preserved as an art and an architecture,

perfectly fitted into the landscape now

where sand and time will make of it

a home not just for gulls and memories,

but for the record of our redemption.

© Lianne Schneider July 2011

Sometimes, even when we're shipwrecked for a time, there are valuable lessons to be learned, qualities in ourselves to develop, and hope - not that someone will rescue us but that we will figure out how to save ourselves. We are the only ones who can. 

Poetry  and images on this page are not only copyrighted but registered - no one may quote or copy either the image or the poetry without permission of the author/artist.

Hope...has eyes

"Hope is the dream of a waking man" ~ Aristotle

 Being Temperamental

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/being-temperamental-lianne-schneider.html

Words of despair seem to be bandied about in many contexts today – the economy (and perhaps our own personal financial situation), unending wars, inevitable destruction of the environment, the nastiness of politics, the inhumanity of man toward other human beings, the starvation of children…indeed, the list alone seems a cause for despair. And personal despair is on the rise as well – one in four Americans will develop a mental illness relating to depression and 150 million doctors’ visits a year pertain to that depression. This must not be a new phenomenon, however. Sometime during the second century B.C.E., Pliny the Elder said, “The depth of darkness to which you can descend and still live is an exact measure of the height to which you can aspire to reach.” Clearly depression and despair were understood to be a significant aspect of the human condition even 4000 years ago. But read that sentence again…and note the second half of it particularly. That phrase smacks of something called hope – and hope is a universal attitude that gives us eyes to see the world through a different lens. “Despair is blind. Hope has eyes,” says Neale Donald Walsch, author of the best-selling series, “Conversations with God.” Hope gives us the courage to face our deepest fears and our greatest grief. As artists in every genre, our gift, we hope, is to open the eyes of the despairing to beauty, grace, love, common experience, compassion and light – to foster hope in others, to remind them that even in the darkest moments, they are not alone. As Suzanne Collins, author of the Hunger Games wrote, “Hope. It is the only thing stronger than fear.”

HOPE BREAKS

Hope breaks…upon the rocks –

shattered into droplets,

dashing itself against the

unforgiving, immovable crags,

their remote faces rejecting

the pleading grasp of blown spume.

At the height of the tide,

in the fury of the winter storm,

it might almost seem as if

nothing could remain of hope.

Yet when that futile surge

of lost promise slips away,

rebuilding for a new onslaught,

there is a poignant sense of loss,

a bleak feeling of abandonment.

But then, close to despair, I recall

that it is those storm driven tides

which bring the gifts from the sea –

casting them like so much refuse

beyond the coastal drift line,

tossed atop the beveled berm,

treasures revealed only when

the wave draws out to sea again

exposing the blessings in the sand…

laying there amidst the seaweed,

with other trash the sea has swallowed,

are pearly shells, small and large,

the driftwood, the beautiful stones,

a piece of Kelly green sea glass,

perhaps a letter in a blue bottle,

each with its own story to tell

of the challenging voyage

that brought it finally to this shore. 

©Lianne Schneider