The Art of Letting go

As we sift through drawers, closets, and forgotten boxes, the dust makes my eyes water and my nose stuff up. Emotions well inside. I remember the young student who gave me this red card with the embossed deity on it the cover. He was seven at the time he was in my kids yoga class, but he must be in Cegep now. There’s also an astrology book found in this collection of stuff. The instructor who gave it to me way back when doesn’t speak to me anymore because of a disagreement. In other box, I find every attendance sheet of every class I ever taught since 2004. I can’t believe that was eight years ago, and I really can’t believe I’m in the process of packing up and moving out of my studio.

This was my week to sort through everything at Om West and decide what stays, what to recycle, what to discard, and what to bring home. On Thursday afternoon, I sit on the floor of Studio 1 and sort CDs. There are a couple without labels. I put one into the player and the notes of Yann Tiersen’s theme song for Amelie begin. Suddenly, I’m lost in a cloud of memories and undistinguishable feelings. I stare at the window and try to regain my composure. “We’re almost done,” I tell myself. “Soon this will all be over.”

I’m not very good at organizing, so trying to figure out what to do with all these accumulated documents and materials is stressful for me. It’s a lot of small intestine work, my friend Nadia would say. I feel constipated, both physically and mentally. But miraculously, after three days and several car trips later, we’re done, and the studio has never, in its 15 years of existence, been more orderly. 

By 8:30pm, Craig, who all day was helping me sort and stay focused, is waiting by the door. The car is packed. But all of a sudden, I have an urge to sit and have a good cry. The lump in my throat has become so large, it’s restricting my breath, and my lower lip is quivering uncontrollably. It finally hit me— All the decisions I made here, all the people I met, all the events I’ve hosted… I never before realized what I actually created and did in this place. I don’t want to leave. I feel like going back upstairs and hugging every wall.  

Craig walks over and puts his arms around me and whispers things like, “Everything is still going to be here next week,” and “Think about all the you’re now going to have.” But I know I just have to let myself release emotions until I feel better.

We eventually make our way home. I am comforted by conversation with Antoine, the new owner, and a bowl of warm Thai curry that is delivered to our door.

So now the sorting is over, and it’s end of a monumental year.

Craig and I are in Bancroft, Ontario at Kat and Vito’s alpaca farm. My friend Jamie Lee, the artist, and Ron Obadia, chocolate yoga co-founder are here too. I’m happy to be celebrating the start of 2012 surrounded by beloved friends. We have a big bonfire planned tonight and I brought a box of paperwork to burn. This will be my way of symbolically letting go of the past.

It’s the dawn of a new beginning, and the start of a new adventure. I’m ready and I’m so stoked.

Kids Yoga Camp 2008

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Practice your own letting go ritual this weekend: 

Write down anything and/or everything that has upset you. Then, as soon as you are done writing, destroy the paper by burning or shredding it.

Cleaning out closets and storage boxes can also be liberating. 

Then, take time to be silent so inspiration can come.

Happy Happy New Year. May peace and joy prevail.