Who of you are you hiding?
It's early.
The sun already warm.
The air thick, heavy, smelling of rich summer days.
I'm sitting by the pond in the garden. The pond recently christened - in my mind - the Douglas J Johnson memorial pond. He loved a pond, did my dad. And we have ours here now too.
These balmy days have drunk the pond almost dry. The water shallow. Even the pond plants thirsty.
The pond is showing you something.
In my little contribution to my dad's funeral I spoke about the the threads of Grandad Dougie - the values, virtues, characteristics - which we the children and in particular the seven grandchildren might see in them. Funerals aren't just an ending. They're a beginning.
These threads all ideas which live on, through us.
In this little series of writing, I'm stopping by a few ideas, thoughts and practises I return to.
This week releasing.
We might also call this subtracting.
What are you holding whose time is done?
There's an old Japanese saying that we have three faces.
One we show to the world.
One only our intimates see, when our guard is down. Tired. Real life. At home. In work.
And the third we hide only to us.
Releasing has work here too.
In these faces are stories we tell. Images we project. Ideas we like. Or don't like. But in holding some and hiding others, we get tired. Personas.
There's a freedom in moving between. Not needing to be like this or say or do that. Less guarded. More open. A freedom to make mistakes. Or try something new. Or be a bit shit sometimes.
Holding the three faces requires a hard edge. Freedom is in the softness.
Working with a teacher a few years ago, I was reflecting on the then coming new year. We were talking about intention. I offered something like an intention towards letting go.
This an idea often shared. Let go. Of this. Or that. Ideas, people, habits. Things we know we've outgrown. Or hold us back or down.
Pointing back to an important truth, my teacher offered something different.
Trying to let go is an oxymoron. Letting go is actually the natural consequence of noticing where we're holding on.
Bring attention and a kind awareness to where you're holding on. And letting go, releasing, is a natural consequence of that care and attention.
Less let go. More aware of where I'm holding. And so allow what you're holding to naturally move. Release.
This might be memories of people lost. Like my dad. It might be ideas, habits, stories you're holding onto. Roles, companies, tasks you've outgrown.
It might be the personas of the first face.
The judgements of the second.
The wounds of the third.
In a LeanMind meet up yesterday, a member offered the thought that, despite talk to contrary, it seems less acceptable these days to feel the full range of emotions. Can't say I'm fucking pissed off. Or angry. With your wife. Or anyone.
This was contrasted to your ten year old self bouncing from wrestling to laughing to crying to shouting to loving to fury to running to eating to playing. And all this before the first bite of that lunchtime's peanut butter sandwich.
This the whole gamut of a life lived. Everything allowed. Everything turned up to ten. Living with and from just the one face. An important insight in here too; the extent to which we feel anything is the extent to which we can feel everything. Place a natural ceiling on sadness, anger, frustration, you're placing the same on joy, delight and humour. You'll only laugh as much as you can cry.
This the stuff of your faces.
What you're allowed to do or say.
The limits. The ceilings. The stories.
This the stuff too of releasing.
Not the stuff in your mind. It's not really there. It's roots are in your body. Its tentacles. Guide ropes holding the tents of your faces in place.
Where is the safety valve, escape chute, your emotional exit point? The place beyond it's not ok to go?
Check out yours. Where do they hide? Where do they reach?
Sitting here, a gentle breeze blowing, the thirsty pond grasses moving in the wind, I feel some of mine. A hook in the chest. A knotty ball in my belly. A lingering sadness. A glupe in my throat. These not for fixing. Just noticing. Lending each a calm, careful, loving awareness. No more. No less. And in so doing, a gentle moving. The three faces are only as fixed as we hold them to be.
Finding the softer edges between these, lending a care and appreciation, there is a releasing.
And in the releasing, there is revealing.
A small request.
I’d like your help.
If you know one person who would like to read this, would you share it with them?
Thank you.
They’re welcome to sign up here to follow this series along too, if they’d like.