Detachment - A Practice of Non Attachment
I love life, this play of life. This game of life and its playfulness with me.
I travelled to the Pacific Northwest and was met with opportunities to practice detachment, fully letting go of attachment. At the time these moments were occurring I did not fully embrace this detachment. Or did I? Was it happening in the moment? Was I only aware after? The knowing of the timing, of the when it happened is irrelevant. It happened. I experienced this. I know I was able to be acceptive of what was occurring, saying to myself a phrase I heard in India often, “What to do?” Really, what could I do?
I arrived at Xenia, on Bowen Island for the Writer’s Retreat. I listened attentively at the welcome dinner, agreeing and understanding the request for a closed mug/drink container while in the yurt to prevent spilling. After dinner I returned to my room to get my mug and fill it with warm water, lemon and honey for our opening circle. I looked everywhere and could not locate it. Ugh, I thought to myself, I must have left it in Jeanette’s car. I remembered seeing it in the cup holder, as I got out of the car and gathered my things, I must have left it there. My mind ran through scenarios, thinking I had grabbed it and placed it in my bag, wondering why Jeanette did not call to tell me I left it there. I even had the thought that Jeanette would have called her friend and had her bring it to me, a totally rational thought in my mind since she was on her way to the island. I caught myself and said Sara, your mug is not here. What to do about it? It is not realistic for Jeanette to call you or to bring it to you. You do not need the mug, there are many mugs for you to use.
In this dialogue I became aware of the attachment I had to the mug - the memories of the mug, the rituals I have with the mug. I began thinking of the expectations I had placed, the ideas I thought, the stories I told myself that included the mug. I would bring the mug with me into the forest, I would have it in my hands to keep me warm, I would hold it to my chest while I spoke, resting it in the space between my legs while I sat. It was the memory of the mug that I was missing. The story I told of the mug, how it had travelled with me to India and how I thought it would be a companion to this journey as well.
What to do? I brought myself back to this question as I lay in bed falling asleep. What to do? What to do? Let it go. There is nothing you can do. Slowly I noticed my mind shifting away from the scarcity of not having the mug and moving towards a place of gratitude, remembering that my water bottle (which I am using now, because I left my Shiva Hanumana water bottle in Jackson last summer) maintains the heat of water. It is a fancy water bottle like that. I turned my mind to this gratitude for what I did have, rather than what was lacking, what I no longer had.
In the morning I woke, rose and walked to fill my water bottle before heading out be among the trees for mediation. Once at the main lodge, I filled it with hot water, lemon and honey leaving the cap loose to allow the steam to rise and the temperature to cool enough to sip it as I made my way back to my room to put on my rain gear. As I entered the room, I placed the water bottle down, not noticing that I placed it half on the carpet and half on the hardwood floor. It toppled over spilling its contents everywhere. I began searching for a cloth to clean up the spill and as I stood to wring out the liquid I discovered, to my delight, my mug sitting on the shelf next to the sink! “Wahoo,” I shouted. “Yippee.”
This is what is means to let go, to fully detach. I had resolved that I could not locate my mug and, in that resolve, I came to terms that I would not be able to have it. That my idea of my mug, my expectations and memories that came with it were no longer possible in that way and I let it go. I allowed my attachment to fade. And once I did, there it appeared.
That experience in itself brought me such joy.
As if that was not enough, I had another experience. Similar but not the same. I have a love, a special place in my heart for an incense that I burned in India. I have one stick left that I place under my nose and take a deep, long sniff. Wanting it to last, I have not burned it. When Jeanette and I were together, she shared some of this special incense with me. We wrapped it, placed it in my bag and told myself I would burn it on a special occasion.
When I woke in the morning at 4:45 to write, I said to myself, burn this incense now. I did. In the low light of a candle, with the window open to let the crisp dawn air and light in I typed words that flowed from my heart. A similar experience happened the following morning. I woke early with words that flowed. I lit a candle and a stick of incense and began typing.
The next day, I thought to burn this incense while soaking in the tub. I reached in my bag to locate the incense and was not able to locate any. Huh, I thought to myself. I thought Jeanette gifted me more than two sticks. And that was that. I let it go. No more thoughts remained. I chose a different stick of incense with a beautiful rose scent and enjoyed my soak.
The following morning, while packing my bag I discovered more of the special incense. Jeanette had graciously offered me more sticks and since they were in their original box I did not feel them in the early morning dawn light. I smiled and laughed out loud as I thought, I am glad I used those two sticks for a very intimate writing session, had I known that I only had two I would have saved them for a special occasion and wouldn’t have burned them. And those early morning writing times were so special and meaningful to me in part because of the sensual experience of the incense.
That is what I am experiencing about letting go of the idea of what was or will be, in doing so a great space opens to be present and enjoy the current moment as it is.
No more than ten minutes after this discovery I witnessed this outside of myself. Earlier in the week, I admired Becca’s red sweatshirt with birds on it. “Is that a Steller’s Jay?,” I asked. “It is,” she shared, turning around revealing the back. There stood a crane, a painted crane that stood taking up the entire length of the back of her sweatshirt. “When I heard you speak of herons,” she shared, “I thought that this sweatshirt needs to be with you.” Becca walked past my room as I was packing and said, “I have something for you and now is the time.” She walked back to her room and returned with the hand painted by her, bird sweatshirt. She offered it to me, I received it with open arms and placed it upon my heart. As this was happening, Angel walked up the path and said to Becca, “I have a red sweatshirt for you.” WHAT? Becca had literally offered her sweatshirt to me, releasing it, letting it go, giving it passing it on and as soon as it was out of her hands and in mine another red sweatshirt appeared.
This play is beautiful to witness unfold, beautiful to watch.
Smiling in awe with it all. The vastness. The interconnectedness. The simplicity. The complexity.
In the releasing there is receiving, it is in this act where we make space for more to come.
As Katrina shared with me as she observed the ocean, “It keeps coming in as it goes out. As it goes out, more is on its way in.”
Yes, it does. Yes, it does.
Inviting you to let go, so you can accept and receive. Fully.
It is possible.
Discover it,
Sara