November 13, 2022
I absolutely love how our bodies tell us what’s what in no uncertain terms. I oftentimes dislike the method of communication—illness, pain, debility—but when it’s as benign as a smile, I greet the message with open arms.
*****
Yesterday, I reorganized the thrift store bags and boxes that have been sitting around waiting to be donated and loaded them into the car. It’s been a year since I made the trek to the Santa Barbara Assistance League, tucked away at the foot of a hill in a semi-rural residential area. The mysterious sprawl of buildings radiates the goodwill of the volunteer women who, for the most part, are comfortably situated, with time on their hands and an inbred do-good attitude.
After I backed the car out, I glanced at the empty parking space and noticed two dilapidated, dusty boxes stacked against the wall.
Oh goodness…there’s those antique light fixtures, fossilized in bubble wrap and ancient tissue paper. One, a gorgeous mica and brass affair that came from who knows where, the other, the ceiling fixture from my teenage-era bedroom in Cassidy‘s house.
The bell of memory dinged. Wait a minute, didn’t I write about this? The dusty boxes, the antique lights I’ve been hauling around for decades, hoping to find an appropriate ceiling to display their beauty?
Didn’t I say I was ready to donate these light fixtures so they could find a happier home? Yes, I did. A year ago, in fact. (See Possessed, What Beauty Awaits, and The Miser’s Mania)
Here’s where the smile saved me from self-recrimination. A tiny tug at one corner of my mouth, an inner sense of lightening, and the certain knowledge of incipient peace. It’s finally time to donate those light fixtures. The smile was my cue, my benediction, my positive trigger. I dusted off the boxes and loaded them in the trunk, where there was just enough room for them to fit.
*****
Gracefully letting go of anything seems to be a final frontier of human mastery. I appreciate the nudge of the tangible: the visual reminder of the boxes, the memory of writing about it a year ago, the smile that undeniably signals it’s time for change.
In the more complicated areas of life, like relationships and belief systems, letting go (gracefully or otherwise) can become a minefield. Nonetheless, I believe that our bodies reliably give us the clues we need if we can remember to tune in. People may leave us in the myriad ways they do. Even we who feel we’re awake to many truths may be shocked by surprising revelations.
How do these leavetakings and revelations physically feel in our bodies? I believe our bodies and emotions are the most reliable barometers of inner truth. The pang of regret followed by relief can help us let go of that person. When new information is lobbed to us out of left field, but we feel a whole-body sensation of aha, we can more easily accept such things.
At any rate, that’s my current plan. Remember to breathe. Remember to heed body sensations. Consciously relax the tightness of fear, grief, and distress. Deliberately breathe in relaxation and acceptance.
And, the next time I notice a forgotten corner with lonely objects looking for homes, and I feel the tug of a smile, I’ll pack them up and trek to the thrift store once more, donating beloved items with a light heart and blessings for the next person who cherishes them.
