Word Winding

attempting to spin cacophony into sanity

Archive for the tag “letting go”

Progress Report: B+ in NaBloPoMo

Obviously I approach NaBloPoMo much the way I approached homework in high school… With my focus on the material but not so much on the deadline.

Time to get caught up on the questions I’ve skipped along the way!

Tell us the methods you use to get through a disappointment.

When I am shaken by any level of disappointment, anger, frustration, sadness, uneasiness, or grief, I try and remember to tune into my basic needs first, to eat soothing, nourishing food, drink plenty of water and tea, take a shower or bath, exercise, meditate, and get some sleep.

Obviously I do not do all of the above before allowing the stressor to so much as cross my mind! But I attempt to deal with any pressing bodily concerns first and maybe delve into a soul-warming activity of some kind (music, writing, fun with family/friends, etc). Once I am buoyed by meeting my own needs, I am better equipped to grapple with whatever has thrown me off course.

Maybe it turns out just taking care of myself is enough. Or perhaps I need to work through an aspect of it in a practical, problem-solving capacity. But most of the time, if a negative emotion is clinging to me, what I need is to find a way to slough it off, which can hopefully be done by remaining conscious of my thoughts on the subject throughout the day and by forming an intent around it during my nightly circle.

Have you ever been scared to let go of your grief?

Of course. For most of the grieving process, the grief itself feels like the sole remaining connection to whatever has been lost, making moving forward a dauntingly lonesome prospect.

Letting go begins when other, more sustainable connections to the object of loss have been made, ideally both privately and publicly. Once that which has been grieved for is rewoven into a new position in daily life, it is possible to gradually release the grief.

Do you believe that time heals all wounds?

Healing occurs over time, but time alone cannot complete the job. Our participation is essential. It is our resistance or willingness to grieve that determines the amount of scarring left behind when time has done the best it can.



Farewell, Small Sock

Today, I bade farewell to a small, much-loved friend:


This diminutive rocket-ship was once one of a proud matched set, its non-skid “321” (blast-off) the finishing touch on my infant daughter’s tiny foot.

It was my very favorite of all the bitty socklets. Until one day its twin vanished.

One day… nearly three years ago. And yet I squirreled it away in the back of first Owlet’s and then Platypup’s dresser drawer, cherishing an ever-dwindling hope for the lost sole’s triumphant return.

(Pun intended.)

Platypup’s monster claws have certainly outgrown it by now. There are no immediate plans for additions to our family.

I knew the lone sock and I were soon to part. As twilight encroached on our time together, I occasionally brainstormed one or another potential uses for the poor matchless thing. Nothing felt quite right.

And then the call went out to bring a small meaningful object to the UU “Ingathering” service to form a sort of collage/time capsule hybrid, which is apparently the custom each September.

You know what I chose.

In honor of the cuddly babe whose toes it once warmed.
In honor of the imperfections, the failures, the unfixable moments.
In honor of the inherent dissimilarity of siblings.
In honor of streamlining and letting go.
In honor of recognizing the perfect opportunity and not hesitating to seize it.


Possibly the last photo of rocket-sock-clad Owlet (using my Facebook albums as a quick reference, because I am not crazy enough to wade through the digital snowdrifts of baby’s first year photos). We were at my inlaws, and it never turned up there, so I strongly suspect it made its escape in an airport or homeward-bound plane. My hope is that it had a delightful voyage to distant lands and was eventually picked up by some discerning individual who made it into a lavender satchel or a teenie doll sleeping bag or a coin purse or some other such thing.

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