Just Let Go.

"What you run from only stays with you longer. When you fight something, you only make it stronger." —Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters


My happiness grows in direct proportion to my acceptance, and in inverse proportion to my expectations.

—Michael J. Fox


If you spend a lot of time at the ocean like our family does, you know the rules of rip currents like you know your own name.

The fundamental truths of surviving a rip current are simple.


Don't fight the current. Work with it.

Be carried out to sea until you can swim parallel to the coastline.

Eventually, you will be led beyond the rip current's pull and reach a new current that will allow you to swim at an angle toward the shore.

When we deeply understand how currents work, we instinctively move with the ocean, in accordance with its laws. We trust the predictability of the ebbs and flows. In the absence of fighting, we are carried. We are nudged back to the safety of the shore.

Last year, I learned that skydiving works in much the same way.

I had the honor of skydiving with the Army Golden Knights. Much of my training leading up to my jump had to do with trusting and surrendering. I was told to tilt my head back, lean into the safety and security of my tandem jumper, and just let go.

Just. Let. Go.

In the moment that I stood at the edge of our plane 13,500 feet above the Earth, my mind raced. It scrambled for a sense of control. It demanded that I do something to ensure my own safe return home. But beyond my mind's demands, there was a knowing that I was held. I was deeply safe. As my instructor and I descended to the ground below, I was filled with the excitement and giddiness of a child.

Somehow, deep down, we all know that life tends to go more smoothly when we are not in resistance to it; when we are in flow with it.

When we understand that each moment is here to be seen, we naturally let go of our need to control, manage, and figure it out. In the letting go, we are guided to the current that makes the most sense. We respond to each moment from a foundation of peace and security rather than from fear and judgment. Possibilities we had never considered suddenly present themselves from this space.

In the spirit of letting go, I'd like to propose a little game.

Think of a dramatic thought or story that your mind loves to play on repeat.

You know the thoughts I'm talking about; the ones that say, "I should be doing better by now" and "I never should have done or said that thing" or "If only I had a different job/spouse/body/lifestyle, I would be better off" or "If only that person hadn't done that thing to me..." Or my absolute favorite: "This shouldn't be happening."

Got one? OK. Do you feel the thought in your body? Maybe it's in the form of tension, a stomach ache, or a racing heart. We feel the thoughts that seem true to us. What a brilliant design!

If you're a normal human being, your mind is probably saying, "Make it go away, now. It's uncomfortable. Seriously, it's been here long enough, now!" And in real life, if this wasn't a game, we might grab an alcoholic drink, scroll through our social media feed, or attempt to find a happy, positive thought to mask the icky one. And all of these things would make PERFECT SENSE. After all, we have had a lifetime of conditioning that tells us to avoid discomfort. Swim against the rip current. Fight the tandem jumper for control.

But, for the sake of the game, let's do something different. Let's swim with the current. Let's imagine that the story—the one that tends to come up the most often—is made of same intelligent energy of the ocean.

As energy, your story simply wants to move through you and be on its way. But, as a normal human being, you have learned to hold onto, attach yourself to, and replay the story again and again. The story looks real, solid, stable, and true. So you stare at it. You shower it with attention. Then, you think of ways to subdue it, numb it, and distract yourself from it. You try in vain to control it. As a result, it can't move on through.

This time, instead of stopping the flow of energy, allow your story to come all the way to the sunlight to be seen. Really seen. After all, it is energy—Life intelligence. It is not the scary thing your mind has made it out to be for all these months, years, or decades. It is coming up again and again so that it can finally move through.

So, draw it closer. Pick it up and hold it the way you'd pick up a crying toddler to comfort her. See if you can let go of the need to change or modify the story. It's energy—it will move and change on its own, by design. It does not need a "positive-thought sticker" slapped on top of it.

If discomfort arises in the body, just notice it. There is no need to form an attachment to it. Those sensations do not belong to you. They're not yours. Just watch them rise and fall, ebb and flow. Leave them alone and just notice them.

As you spend more time playing the game of working with rather than against your stories, they will begin to lose their grip. The energy will move through you.

In the absence of resisting your stories, THEY will let YOU go. 💗