Welcome to Week 4 of Open Air.
This week we’re honing in on the final of our trio of qualities that a mindfulness meditation practice can ripen. The first was gentleness and the second was precision.
This week, we’re letting go.
It’s hard to totally encapsulate what letting go is, but you can sense when it has happened. There’s a little more space, things are perhaps a little bit more malleable, and there’s maybe more possibility.
It can be a reminder to relax and other times it can be a reminder to dive in. Irrespective of what letting go might look like in any given moment, our gentleness and precision create the conditions for it’s skilful manifestation.
It’s useful because of the reality of change, that means that every moment is fresh and contains really new information. Holding onto how things have been or what we would like to them to look like prevents us from fully showing up to what is present.
When we can let go of our preconceived expectations, judgements, and worries (easier said than done), then we can truly meet people and ourselves where we are.
If you’ve ever looked after a plant, or sent an email that feels important, you’ve probably had some experience with letting go. In the case of the plant, part of looking after a plant is letting it do its thing, we can water it, put it in a nice position with the right levels of sunlight and warmth, and then after that we have to let go. In the case of an important email, despite all of our efforts to make it perfect, we can’t control how it will be received and eventually we have to let go.
Trying to control too much can smother and strangle our authentic presence, whilst a lack of effort and care can lead to sloppy outcomes. Letting go is an art. The Buddha named this art the middle way.
In our mindfulness practice, it can be helpful to let go of expectations of how a sit should or might go, and to just show up fully to meet whatever arises. We might have to change how we sat versus yesterday, to support our body with gentleness, or to invoke more precision.
When we’re labelling thoughts as thinking, it can be useful to think of that process as touching in, and letting go. We’re not getting involved with the content, but we are acknowledging the presence of thoughts, sensations, and whatever else arises. After that, we let go - back to the breath.
In my own life, I’ve experienced the suffering of failing to let go a few times. I’ve also experienced the joy and possibility of letting go into seeing what happens. In particular, I had a hard time deciding whether or not to leave medical school. At first, I just made the decision to take a year out to travel. But when I got back, many of the same ruminating thoughts re-arrived on the scene to ask ‘Am I really happy?’, ‘Why can’t I be satisfied?’ And suggest; ‘Medicine is a good career’, and ‘You might not make it if you leave.’
I indulged and let go of these thoughts many times. In indulging I would start-up the anxiety generator, and in letting go, I would be able to marvel at the uniqueness of my position. Many times, these thoughts would come back around. At a certain point, I even had to let go of needing to know. I just had to let the chilli cook. I didn’t know if I would leave medical school or not until I did it; finally the moment arrived, and I let go - into the open air.
To finish this essay, I’ll leave you with another quote:
“The bad news is that you’re falling, the good news is that there is no ground.” - Chogyam Trungpa
