Letting Go of the Leash

Freedom from the Leash

Letting go of the leash we grip onto leads to spiritual, mental, and emotional health. It frees us and those we love to let go and not hold too tightly. Lyrics to so many songs come to mind as I write this. It may be my most cliche yoga blog yet.

Letting go of the leash applies to our relationships with animals, people, houses, jobs, identities, expectations and sticky attachments of any kind. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that attachment is unhealthy. But I have caused myself much emotional/mental pain and drama in the past, when I clinged too tightly, and have watched my friends suffer immensely.

After almost 3 weeks containing (as per the veterinarian’s suggestion) my recently immigrated kitty Franki from Mexico in our new Lambertville apartment, and walking him on a harness and leash in the yard, I let him go free. In Mexico, he is free to come in and out as he pleases, but he grew up there and knows the turf. He speaks Spanish. Many people told me to keep in inside. “Don’t risk it,” they warned.

For those of you who love animals, you know how tricky this can be, and know the fear of losing your beloved animal forever to unknown dreadful elements in your neighborhood.

I let him out anyway. I wanted us both to be healthy and free.

The first time I let him out he ran up the tree outside the kitchen window, as if to quickly conquer the looming Maple he had been drooling over for three weeks. Then he ran back in. I was delighted. I gave him a treat.

The second time he munched some grass, sniffed a little, and then ran back in. I was delighted. I gave him a treat.

But last night was different. We were both outside in the cool misty rain, and I turned my back for a second – he was gone.

Funny how small things like this can bring back memories of losing other things and people. I lay in bed and noticed the thoughts and little worries, but didn’t buy into them. However, I admit that I got up every half hour to see if he was around, but he wasn’t.

I finally surrendered to sleep with a sense of trust and confidence as I remembered that old, over-used expression, “If you love something let it go, if it comes back, it was meant to be, if not, it wasn’t meant to be with you.” Or something like that.

I suppose in yogic terms I would interpret it more like, “Hey, we are all living out our own karma, our own unique path and destiny. Don’t take it personally if I go.”

After two hours, I woke up and went out to call him again. It was still raining, dark, and cold. He was nowhere in sight. Then after a few minutes he playfully peeked his head over the edge of the second floor rooftop above me and meowed. Running down  two flights of steps and into the kitchen, he was back.

I was delighted. I gave him a treat.

Franki Goes to Lambertville

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The Seesaw of Sharing

I feel like a tomato without its skin. It’s that sinking feeling in my stomach again. Did I just divulge too much about my recent tragedies, hardships, bad luck, or bad karma to a new friend? The doubt creeps in when I begin to hear her well-meaning advice coming toward me instead of the shared empathy I crave.

The extremes of codependency can appear in a single conversation! Amazing! One person is exposing themselves too much, or “spilling it all too quickly” as it is referred to in certain literature about codependency. And the other person is reacting out of their unconscious need to help, over care-take, or correct the situation. Instead of just listening or empathizing from their own shared experience, they quickly begin to give advice, admonitions, and astute observations as if they were somehow privy to insider information.

Both people in the conversation mean well, but the conversation begins to spiral downward.

I wanted to jump out of my body like it was a Halloween costume worn too long.

“You should pray more.” ” Hum…do you notice a pattern here?” she says to me with her index finger placed over her lip , and eyebrows furrowed a bit like my therapist.

I become queasy. How do I stop this runaway train now? Dizzy discomfort. Oh no! The conversation has turned to “fixing” me. Oh no!

My soul cries, “I don’t want to be fixed! I don’t need to be fixed!”

And simultaneously, another truth dawns on me: I recognize my own self in this situation. I am reminded of the times that I so wanted to help others, I couldn’t plain old listen.

For a moment, I am consoled by this realization, and that the fact that I can empathize even though I am uncomfortable.

I renew my efforts to catch myself in the quest to change anyone. I feel redeemed, and

then I jump back into my exposed pealed tomato body.

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