A few months ago, my girlfriend and I were at a bar in Miami during the Chinese New Year. As part of the festivities, the bartenders provided every guest with a blank card, upon which, you were supposed to write your intentions for the coming year. It’s the Year of the Rooster, by the way.
I don’t know why, but when he approached us, a wave of anxiety over came me — just for an instant. I think I was feeling like a written intention was waaaay too much of a commitment for me at the start of the year. But as he slid the paper over to me, I found myself quickly jotting down 4 words. I gave it little to no thought. The pen hit the paper and the words just inked themselves across it: Let Go, Let Live.
It was such an honest moment. I gave myself no time to ponder or package my thoughts (packaging — physically and proverbially — is very much a fixation of mine) and thinking back, I think those four words were meant to be written at that moment, in that order.
I have written about the need to allow myself to Let Go. This is something I am going to wrestle with for a while — let go of my plans, my intentions, my need to know everything pertaining to my children as they grow. I have control over nothing, so why the grip? Let go…
I’ll say it again. I have control over nothing. So why not give myself over to the uncertainty? Relish in the thrill of not knowing. It’s easier said than done for someone who has always been the “responsible one.” I am such a straight arrow sometimes. I really do need to lighten up…
And fuck, do I need to practice that “Let Live” part…. but where to start?
Maybe the Rooster knows?