Dig Deep, Let Go

Between reading Michael Singer’s The Surrender Project and my own natural desire to go-go-go, complete with a regular forcing of round pegs into square holes if that suits my unchecked whims, I found myself bumping up against a reverberating commentary in my mind around how I can possibly do all that I want to do in this one short little lifetime. How do I trust I’m heading in the right way? How do I balance the mom guilt with the constant desire to fill myself up with solitude? How do I behave that feels both deeply satisfying to my soul *and* like a real adult? Where is the balance between “this feels sound and responsible and good…” and “screw it, I’m gonna go a little crazy here…”


I have no idea.


Which is why I re-read Singer’s book. This is a book that requires us mere, unenlightened mortals to revisit and remind ourselves of the wisdom held there. I’m sure a third reading would bring even more to light. But until then, I’m chewing on a few nuggets that help me see that there is a lot more fluidity to the choices I have in front of me, big and small, every day. Here’s what I mean…


Singer says,

Each of us actually believes that things should be the way we want them, instead of being the natural result of all the forces of creation.”

RIGHT?? Isn’t this the most sweetly arrogant and misguided way to interpret the situations and circumstances around us? It’s the (barely) adult version of a temper tantrum. To think that we could possibly know how he should act or which way the meeting should go or what she should do.


This is what gets in between us and peace. Our mental preferences are the loudest and most pain-filled struggle against the reality of our lives. Our mental preferences are the single most significant obstacle to our own freedom.


He also says,

Am I better off making up an alternate reality in my mind and then fighting with reality to make it be my way, or am I better off letting go of what I want and serving the same forces of reality that managed to create the entire perfection of the universe around me?

Folks, read that one more time. Isn’t that good stuff right there? {I mean, while I’m busy cleaning the cat’s hairballs out of the carpet and pouring Cheez-Its into baggies for my kids’ snacks, Mickey Singer is writing out life-changing stuff. like. that. But I digress.}


It helps me to rephrase that amazingness into a bite-sized piece that I can use every day (and, let’s be honest, one I can remember): how can I serve what’s showing up in front of me? Just this simple sentence prompts me to drop into the flow of life around me, to let go of the attachments that I’m gripping so fiercely, and to open up to what’s being asked. And, because I’m a woman, wife, mother, recovering people-pleaser, and trying-to-be-more-aware-but-just-let-me-solve-your-problems-for-you person, one of the key elements to this whole shebang is that: I only need to serve what I want to serve. Requests will be made of all of us, job offers will fall in our laps, favors will be asked. Serving what’s showing up in front of us *does not* mean saying yes to everything that comes across our line of vision.


So, yes, I had to come up with a catchy little reminder to keep this element in check. And it looks like this: dig deep, let go. Dig deep, let go. Dig deep, let go. I dig deep where I’m interested and drawn and wholeheartedly want to serve. Then I let go and see what comes of it. What’s requested? What’s offered? What’s asked? Then I dig deep in that direction until it’s time to let go again.


This is not a linear journey. This is not a logical journey. This is certainly not an easy journey. Sometimes the digging is hard. Sometimes I feel like a prairie dog digging up the whole damn yard with no idea what it’s going to turn into. No idea where, if I can let go enough, I will be asked to serve. Because sometimes the letting go is harder.


But I tell you what: we can do hard things. We can and we will.