By Deborah Blackwell

I was sitting on my yoga mat with my eyes closed after a great practice (in my pajamas in my living room), and I had a radical experience.

You know that feeling when you just know that you’re done with something? That you’ve let it go? That you’re now untethered?

Well, guess what I just let go of. Letting go.

Yep. Sounds paradoxical, but I’ve been struggling with letting go of a few things — some lifelong, some recent — and no matter how hard I’ve tried, I haven’t succeeded. I thought I was doing it wrong, until I realized that unless it’s a physical object — like dropping a ball, tossing a spoon, or chucking a rock — letting go is not a “do.” It’s a “feel.”

You can’t let go of formless things — those icky, intangibles like hurt, betrayal, bitterness, grief, regret, or painful memories — just like that. The past can have quite a grip, especially if the people involved are, for whatever reason, still in your present. “Just let go,” people say. “Move on. Accept. Move forward.” Yes, letting go is powerful, potent, and freeing. Except we give it so much power. Sometimes it isn’t a possibility, let alone a decision.

Before I got on the mat, a sorrowful situation from the long-ago past had slunk back into my orbit, and summoned that tricky, sticky, uncomfortable  phrase: “Just let it go.” When situations (or people) are bad for your health, you do have to let go. But what if the tethers are tangled — like with family? Or what if you don’t have resolution? They say life works itself out. If that’s true, then letting go shouldn’t feel like such a big deal. Yet it does.

A year ago, I embarked on a major project, to start a podcast. At first it went really well. We had a solid concept, created a beautiful website, and recorded some interesting episodes. Then, when we got ready to launch, a lot of life happened, and my cohost (and friend) had to abort. She had her reasons, which, depending on your perspective, may have been difficult to swallow. When tethers are attached to your heart and soul, letting go isn’t easy — whether it's endeavors or relationships.

It comes flooding back into your headspace again and again. The dream, the desire, the love, the hope, the time, the effort, the dedication, the commitment, and then, the strike-out. It all pulls at your core, creating knots and clumps, building layer upon layer of why’s, what if’s, and now what’s.

Tethers can tussle friendships, split families, and challenge values. They can bring trauma-informed histories and stories back to the surface. They can be big, ugly, and uncomfortable. All the stuff that loves to stick.

But hey, just let it go.

Wouldn’t it be much easier to hit the delete button? Since that’s not possible and life is a process of time, our experiences layer, like the layers of the earth. Each has its own characteristics and mysterious elements that make up the dynamic, ever-changing whole. The emotional components of each experience, like the earth’s geology, also fluctuate and change. We know they’re in there, we can feel them. But instead of trying to squish them down, we can try to let them settle. Soften. Rest. Erode. Melt. Let new life form on top of them, where greener grass can grow.

I’m not done with the podcast. A do-over with a new cohost is in the works, and I can feel that too. But that doesn’t mean I can just untether from the first take. Letting go hasn’t come. And I hate that.

I don’t think time heals all wounds. It takes effort and practice and vigilance to the present moment. That doesn’t come naturally for most of us and may even be why conflict is such a major component of humanity.

So, back to the mat. I opened my eyes and moved on. The past will eventually pass. It always does. Let go? Nah. Let be.