Skip to content

Letting Go One Leaf at a Time

autumn_leafAutumn is truly and finally upon us. This poem reminded me of the trees and their deleafing process, and what a good example they provide of letting go.


Letting Go Takes Love

To let go does not mean to stop caring,
it means I can’t do it for someone else.


To let go is not to cut myself off,
it’s the realization I can’t control another.


To let go is not to enable,
but allow learning from natural consequences.


To let go is to admit powerlessness, which means
the outcome is not in my hands.


To let go is not to try to change or blame another,
it’s to make the most of myself.


To let go is not to care for,
but to care about. 


To let go is not to fix,
but to be supportive.


To let go is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.


To let go is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes,
but to allow others to affect their destinies.


To let go is not to be protective,
it’s to permit another to face reality.


To let go is not to deny,
but to accept.


To let go is not to nag, scold or argue,
but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.


To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires,
but to take each day as it comes and cherish myself in it.


To let go is not to criticize or regulate anybody,
but to try to become what I dream I can be. 


To let go is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.


To let go is to fear less and love more.


                                    Author unknown


The Path and Power of Yes

A woman client of mine was at her wits’ end with her Type-A, CEO husband who treated her like a minion and not a beloved. She decided to bring him to see me as a last ditch effort to get him to hear what she needed.

They arrived. She sat gracefully, and quietly. Her husband had his phone in his hand punching “buttons” and cybermuttering. His legs were crossed; foot jouncing. Finally, he looked up and, clearly annoyed at having his business day preempted, spat out, “So you’re the spiritual lady, right? Can you tell me about your spiritual path in one sentence or less?”

I gazed at him from my big green eyes, giggling inside. Then I spoke, “Yes.” I stopped.

He waited. I could see him wanting to snap his fingers at me, and then he did! “Yes, what?” came back over the net—even more irked.

His wife burst out laughing. He looked confused.

“Do you want me to explain it?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Okay,” I said. “My spiritual path is to say yes to whatever is happening.”

“Like what?” The belligerence was crystal clear.

“Like, yes, there is a man in my office behaving like an ass and being very rude to me about my spiritual path.”

His wife was wiping her eyes she was laughing so hard.

Truthfully, my last line was like the punchline of a joke. There was a nano-pause, then he got it, relaxed, showed up for the session, and saved their marriage.

The point is: this is the power of yes. No matter what is coming toward me or anyone.

For such a simple word, it can be said and used in all sorts of ways. Another client sent this to me during this rough time in my own life. Here’s another kind of yes entirely, and it works just as well.

Hell Yes vs. Deep Yes

Nisha Moodley

Deep down in your soul, there’s a Yes.

She may not jump with excitement.
She may be quiet, steady, and clear.

She may have no pom poms.
She may be timid.

She may not say “Hell Yes!”
She may just say “Yes.”

Even her quiet Yes counts.
Ask her, then listen.

She’s the only one who knows.

Nisha Moodley

Make Room

I’d like to introduce you to a member of my Council of Elders, although she’s not an elder yet, because Barbara Winter, the publisher of a delightful newsletter for self-bossers [people who work for themselves], Winning Ways, is one of my primary teachers. This acknowledgment is long overdue. For the next two weeks, I’m going to use quotes from Barbara as Seeds.

“What’s equally ineffective is trying to jam a dream into an already over-crowded schedule. You’ve got to clear out space—usually this involves managing time—to make room for your dreams.”

Barbara’s right again. Dreaming is a roomy business. It’s hard to dream big on a post-it note. Instead, we need to make time. We need to make space. In our schedules, but also in our minds and hearts. Busyness is pandemic in the West.

Stop, get still, breathe, dream.

Bloody Mary from South Pacific was right. “You got to have a dream/ If you don’t have a dream / How you gonna have a dream come true?” Make room!

Seeds XVI, 43