Letting Go

I have a problem that is completely ordinary and beautifully human. At the same time, it IS a problem, potentially a life-threatening one, and I am now choosing to see it as such. It’s easy to overlook how dire it is since this pattern is validated over and over by others and by society as ‘good’ and valuable. My problem is much lauded and applauded; it is often seen as a positive trait. 

The problem is that I do too much. The problem is that my default belief is that my value is a direct result of my productivity, of my hard work, of how much I do. Neither you nor I can help the fact that we were born in a capitalist society obsessed with efficiency and productivity and always MORE, but we can start now, wherever and whoever we are, to fight like hell to see our value (and others’) as having nothing to do with how much we do (or even what we do). 

I am a valuable being, regardless of my accomplishments, successes, or career. I am valuable regardless of how many facts are in my brain, of how I pronounce words, of how accurate my memory is. I am valuable regardless of how skinny or strong I am. I am valuable regardless of how interesting or funny I am. I am valuable and completely ordinary. I am no better or worse than anyone else.

The other night I sat around a campfire with a group of friends after a satisfying day of biking and laughing. The day was wonderful not because of how far I had biked, but because of how the sun felt on my skin and the full bodied laughter that had warmed me all day. We were talking about what has felt true about ourselves since birth, some immutable thing about ourselves that connects us to our inner child, something that seems to be a life-long truth. When it was my turn, it came quickly. Something that has always been true about me is that I’m not competitive. I have always felt that I’m mostly composed of love and squishiness and that I have no desire to compete with anyone or anything. Nonviolence and non competition feel to be my essence even if I get confused sometimes as a person enmeshed in the wider oppressive webs of society. It confuses me because society makes me think that I should be or am competitive. An inherently oppressive society grafts violent and harmful thought patterns onto all of us that inculcate us into valuing hierarchies, imbalances of power, and competition. Despite all of this, I know that I’m a lover and that there’s nothing that can change that. I may spend my entire adult life working my way to this truth, but I know that it’s as true as spring soil. 

The pattern of busy-ness and the frantic energy I often hold that leads to a mindless accumulation of activities and accomplishments is something that I can set down only with the help of community and accountability. I may be a nonviolent and noncompetitive person, but I still am missing some essential element of self-love and trust that keeps me from seeing my inherent value. I want to also be nonviolent to myself, and for me, that means doing a lot less and having more space to be a human. Slowness feels like a natural way to work my way back to my loving nature. Through one-on-one conversations with beloveds, praxis groups, and even intentional and planned interventions, I have realized that my pattern of doing too much (and trying to always become ‘better’) shows up in most parts of my life. Despite being ethically against it, I have found myself stepping onto the ladder of professionalization/specialization in my career and have gradually accumulated more and more responsibility, letting my job bleed into my life far too much. Despite fully knowing the importance of infusing activism with joy, sustainability, and love, I have fallen into the common pattern of taking on too much commitment and burning out. It is only through my relationships that I have finally seen what I’m doing and what I have been doing for years. 

It never feels simple to set things down or to step back from commitments. It never feels easy for me to be less available and to have better boundaries. But it’s also not good to iterate the patterns of white supremacy (urgency, more is better, etc) in my personal, organizing, or work life. If I don’t leave myself enough time, energy, or space to nurture my relationships with beloveds and with myself, then what am I really growing in my life? My theory of change is increasingly looking to be a deep understanding of the transformational power of relationships—organizing and activism happens through relationships and conversations—and this includes having a healthy and loving relationship with myself. As a dear friend has explained, it’s not what or how much I do, but how I show up. Am I showing up in a way that honors the importance of my relationships? Am I paying attention, to myself, to my relationships, to the land? Am I really here? If my relationships don’t reflect the liberation that I believe we all deserve, then what am I doing? 

I welcome and am excited about working on this pattern. I welcome a healthier relationship with myself, with my body, with the land, with diverse communities, and with all of my beloveds. I welcome moving slower, knowing that I want to be an activist for my entire life, not for just one week. We aren’t helping anyone by overworking ourselves, by punishing and neglecting our bodies and emotions. 

It’s actually simple. I love myself. I trust myself. I belong. I’m ready to embody that. 

 

On my birthday, I did a letting go ceremony with a few friends at Lake of the Isles. We wrote down what we wanted to let go of and then burned it. I chose to let go of “professionalism/specialization” and “urgency/busyness/perfectionism.” What can you let go of to make more space for life?