My Path of Letting Go

You’re learning that
the path of letting go
is not achieved through forgetting,
but in remembering.

In remembering,
you surrender to the spirit of gratitude,
honouring the truth of your best memories;
the ones in shared awe
walking through English rose gardens,
exploring vintage and antique shops,
chasing ducks around St. James Park,
or feeding strange squirrels by Harbord village

In remembering,
you boldly lean into the ghosts of your grief;
the ghosts that have yet to speak…
that still yearn to be free.

Such ghosts are not always kind.
Such ghosts may ravage your days
with piercing sorrows,
frustrating strikes of anxiety or
deep rage directed inward upon yourself.

Whether on your Christmas mornings,
ordinary Mondays or
days of Sabbath,
these ghosts relentlessly find you.

But, please know this–
such ghosts do not actually mean to harm you.
I know it’s hard to believe.

Such ghosts are simply of the wild sort…
like a feral housecat
that’s been ignored for
far too long.

Feral ghosts can be tamed…
not with photon blasters or
overeager conjurings,
but with wisdom and compassion.

By listening to their stories,
you discover what few dare to learn
from the hospitality of ghosts.

The Divine has taught you this
especially when it’s so hard to see
what shape such ghosts take
in the blurry shadows
of the twilight.

So remember
your frequent pilgrimages
through the dark nights of the soul.

Remember all that you’ve revealed
of your fullest self
through marauding fears
and strangely sweet
shadows.

Remember to see
with those glistening
eyes of wonder
that you sometimes forget
you’ve claimed long ago.

Remember,
that beauty is born of mystery.
Especially so,
through the holy darkness
and uncertain nights.

 

My emails
rock.

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