What Letting Go Really Means.

In the pre-dawn hours I stirred awake reflecting on a conversation I had with one of my elderly clients this past week. This client is no ordinary client, he has Parkinson’s disease and has gradually degraded from needing a cane, to needing a walker, to now currently needing a wheelchair.

Bearing witness to this has been challenging and it has also been a huge honor to hold space for him in his process. I should also mention he is a lifetime meditation and yoga practitioner and has the best attitude I’ve ever seen around his own struggles - often in moments of his deepest mobility challenges, he will crack an absurdly funny joke and leave me in stitches. He’s gone deep into the yogic teachings and it has visibly impacted his attitude in the here now.

Last week though, as we were starting to get him ready for his bodywork session, quite seriously, he asked me to sit with him for a moment to discuss something. I situated myself and once I settled he looked me straight in the eyes and said, “One day I’m going to die, it’s coming closer now. It’s not me I’m worried about though, it’s my wife, will you still come her to work with her once I’m gone?”

Although we have discussed the inevitability and transient nature of existence a time or two before, this time it hit differently. It was personal. I sucked in a deep, almost exasperated breath and told him that without doubt I will show up in the ways that I can. He nodded in acceptance and we both agreed that we can take refuge in the fact that there’s not many guarantees in this life, but death is one of them. I replied that death was the main event, and nodding in half agreement, he winked at me and reminded me that the moments that we are alive are pretty important too.

This moment really stirred me as I’ve been contemplating impermanence and letting go a lot lately as I bear witness to my own maternal Grandmother edge closer to the culmination of her life, with some grace and a lot of grit, I watch her hang on to every freedom she has, like a squirrel guarding it’s stash of walnuts, she is not letting go of anything without a fight. It’s both affirming and hard to watch at the same time, and grief has been a companion of mine lately contemplating the changes she’s been going through that are beyond our control.

The truth is, there is no way of knowing for sure when one will make their final voyage, whether it culminates in a life well lived to old age, or not. The only guarantee is the impermanent nature of existence itself. This thought alone drives me to show up full potency for this life I’ve been given, and to remember, beyond checking things off the list, it’s important to be grateful for all that we have, in every possible moment that we have. In this lifetime, we’re like bees in a field of wildflowers, the nectar of life is there if we are willing to extract it.

The reality is, in this life the teachings of impermanence are always at our doorstep. Sometimes they are like a silent dove in the night, things feel stable, like a Tokyo bullet train, everything is running as it should be, right on time. Other times, the teachings of impermanence are like a ravenous vulture ready to carry us away. I don’t know why, but bearing witness to the moments leading up to death feel a lot like the latter.

So what does letting go really mean? I think it looks differently for each of us, but something that we can take refuge in is to acknowledge and accept the impermanent nature of life itself. The more we resist this absolute guarantee - that things are going to change whether we accept it or not - the more we are bound to feel bewildered by those changes when they occur. Whereas if we have a practice around contemplating our own mortality, our own transmigration of the soul, the more we land right in the center of clear vision and grace when the grief comes. I won’t go as far as to say we find acceptance, because that is a deeply personal affair, but I will say that anything that helps ease the grief is something that I’m ready and willing to lean into currently.

In the yoga sutras Patanjali addresses our struggles to let go by disseminating the kleshas, the obstacles (to awakening). The Yoga Sutras say, “Ignorance, egoism, attachment, hatred, and clinging to bodily life are the five obstacles.” 2:3

One feeds into the other, beginning with ignorance and stemming from there into egoism, attachment, hatred and clinging to life. At the end of the day, all of the forms of suffering (kleshas) boil down to ignorance of the true nature of existence. Ignorance of who we really are. Ignorance of the eternal Divinity that permeates us and every single atom. From ignorance we may think we are more important than someone else (egoism, asmita), from ignorance we get attached and think things will always stay the same (attachment, raga), from hatred (dvesha; aversion) we separate ourselves and constantly seek pleasure to avoid dealing with what is painful, and beyond any doubt, every living being clings to their life (abhinivesah). You can study this by watching how a bug will run for it’s life if you go after it with a glass to get it outside. The bug doesn’t know you’re not going to kill it, but it’s hard wired to run like hell to stay alive, and so are we.

“Clinging to bodily life exists even in the wise.” Yoga Sutras 2:9

So how do we stop clinging? How do we overcome the afflictions (kleshas) so we can have a life well lived, one with no regrets, so that when the inevitability of shedding the body becomes a fact, we greet death like a friend we knew was coming in from a long, arduous journey. It’s as if our death traverses through the most vacant of deserts, the densest of jungles, and the longest stretches of sea, but alas upon arrival to our doorstep, time will be of the essence and that time will be the time to GO. The adventure has arrived, and you won’t know where you’re going, but you are obliged to forge into the unknown.

So how do we stop clinging? The yogis knew that overcoming our own suffering and clinging was a serious lifetimes upon lifetimes endeavor and offer sound advice, “Accepting pain as help for purification, study of spiritual books, and surrender to the Supreme Being constitute Yoga in practice.” 2:1

Accepting pain as help for purification shows up constantly, from something simple such as there are dishes to wash and we feel lazy, but we do them anyways, to going as far as having to navigate extremely painful circumstances and allowing yourself to feel it all without clinging or running away, to be willing to face it. The yogis realized we could work with this concept called tapas (lit:to burn, or accepting pain as help for purification) with our own body hence asana (postures), kriya (cleansing practices), pranayama (breathwork), and dhyana (meditation) were birthed into existence. The yogic techniques help us understand impermanence by observing the day to day changes in our body and internal landscape. They essentially prepare us to die, and teach us how to live and die well.

Likewise, going further into the above Sutra, study of spiritual books can be translated literally, as in read books from lineages that resonate with you and show you the way to awakening, to something more broad, such as studying the ‘etherical spiritual books,’ such as learning from plant medicine teachers, or having direct experiences that connect you to the majesty of existence and answer more “why’s” in your head than any book ever could. My most recent experience like this was in the middle of the night soaking in a hot spring tub at Esalen with the Pacific ocean crashing on the cliffs below and an impromptu meteor shower started falling over head. Certain moments remind us of our true nature, and spark the curiosity to live boldly.

And lastly, surrender to the Supreme Being. This comes in many forms as well, it could be surrendering to what one may call God, or the Divine, or Allah, (or the list goes on), to surrendering to a Guru, to surrendering to the innate Divinity within every single person we encounter. For me I think it’s a combination of all three. Take refuge in the teachings of the Guru(s), understand that all experiences have the potential to be a Guru to us (even the painful ones), and remember G*d is within all.

By following this almost prescriptive advice, accepting pain as help for purification (tapas), study spiritual books (or experiences), and surrender to the Supreme Being, we begin to transcend the forms of suffering we may undergo and start to get a glimpse of what it is to live an awakened life. It’s not that we won’t suffer, we will, that is another guarantee, but in our awareness we know that unattachment reins Supreme, and we become truly capable of letting go. In the surrender comes the ease.

Impermanence is our only guarantee. In understanding this we remember what letting go really means. In understanding this we become free. This doesn’t mean we won’t feel all the feels, certainly, we are on this Earth to feel it all. There is truly no prescription to ease the pain we may feel when we lose someone we love, we all will have our own path to forge in this journey from conception to dissolution. We will all grieve in our own way, and all is permitted.

For me, taking refuge in the teachings from the enlightened ones provides a moment of insight in a sea of despair. For me, the teachings remind me that the beauty of life is the mystery that we will never really know what will become of us, until the moment of our own death arrives, and even then, will we ever really know? This is what makes life so damn beautiful. The only urgency we have is to live life fully. Love fully. Feel fully. Put it all on the line, because truly, what do we have to lose?