Loose versus tight; hold instead of grip.  The implications of these directives ripple through me, ignite a little fire.  She asks: How much more could I hold if I loosened my grip?  I’m floored by the question, cracked open.  And I don’t know the answer but my sense is a lot.

Someone else tells me that writing takes a lot of nerve, that those of us trying to bring language to moments that touch us are in a great mystery together.  We email back and forth, me her me her me, she’s candid, encouraging, real.  I crack open a little further.

Another conversation lands on the word trust, the idea of trust as a core vibration.  This touches my heart, crack, I open a little bit more.  In order to loosen my grip and live fully and truly, I’ve got to welcome Trust to a seat at the table, make two hot cups of tea, maybe serve slices of blueberry yogurt cake, lean in close and listen to what Trust has to say, linger while crumbs fall to plate, a few to floor, humbly wipe my mouth before speaking.  

How much more will I hold when I loosen my grip?  Because I feel (because I hope) that it’s inevitable, (hope) that it’s a question of when more than a question of if, because I don’t think I’m down with the alternative, don’t think my heart will hold out if too much gets stuffed inside and there aren’t cracks for release, aren’t cracks through which trust pushes through, vibrates.

Abundance is a process of letting go; that which is empty can receive.
~ Bryant H. McGill ~

P.S. My FREE five-day journaling series Letting Go, Calling In is available through the end of February.  Go here for details and to receive this offering, from me to you. (and a p.s. to the P.S. you don’t have to be a journaler to do this… just curious and open to reflection.)