From Our Readers: Letting Go
Have you ever experienced flying the most beautiful kite you've ever made on a terrifying stormy day? In the middle of a big field, alone. The transition from the sunniest day to the scariest rainfall happens too quickly. Strong winds fighting against you and your kite, making it slowly disintegrate as the rain pushes hard against it. But you hold on. As tight as you can, not wanting to release your work of art— your hard work, your everything.
You've put too much time into it already, worked through lots of challenges. Searched the ends of this planet just to find the perfect and most fitting materials for this. Going overboard with your efforts, but you think, it will be worth it once it's finished. It has to be perfect. It has to have every piece fit perfectly as possible. This goes here, and this, there. Your masterpiece, that's what you call it. It takes you hours, possibly days just to put it all together. Carefully glueing each piece with much patience, that's how much this all means to you.
But today, the weather has failed you. Circumstances led to this moment. You are here, wet, soggy, cold, and barely holding on to the string that's slowly slipping through your hands. You pray that the friction between your hands and string will save you from your misery. You're putting too much force into your fingers that every movement it goes against your palm would feel like this sharp cut deep into your skin. You feel your hands bleed, a stream of blood washed away by the water. It hurts, but no, "My efforts," you think, "My hopes," you scream.
Every second is pure agony. Every moment brings a flash back to why you made it, how you made it. You wish if you knew any sooner that things would fall apart in the end, you wouldn't have given too much. It hurts that you thought it would work out in the end. You were too hopeful about it that you would never expect failure.
You remember thinking that you could have been successful. The girl who made the prettiest kite. The girl who flew the highest kite. Then they would finally notice.
Your feet are soiled, and your kite nearly torn into itty-bitty pieces. But did you let go? No, not yet.
You think of everyone, everyone who also thought you could do it. Everyone who thought you couldn't do it. You wanted to prove to them. Prove to them that you could still hold on. You think you're strong enough to endure the pain a little longer. The storm will pass, you think. Your kite will survive, you say.
A minute or so has passed, you've become restless. Your kite, if you can still call it so, is barely even there. But it's still flying. The weather though, has not changed one bit. Thunder and lightning alternate, but now you're not even scared of it anymore. The sparks of lightning in the sky is your new sun, it gives you energy. Every second you feel the sound of the raging sky beats with your pulse. And your irises get smaller with each branch of lightning in the sky.
Then you feel like in that second, everything stops. Boom. Crash. It doesn't matter anymore.
For the first time, you feel prepared. You feel ready. You feel like this new energy source charged you in some strange way you never felt before. It's not cold-heartedness, it's wisdom. And the feeling rushes through your veins like nothing else.
You take a deep breath. You can't handle it anymore. The flashbacks return, you remember how it hurt you and burdened you every step of the way. You remember everyone who has pressured you. You remember your faulty decisions. You remember the one who told you that you can't make a kite like that. You remember everything. You can't handle it.
"NO MORE," you let out your final scream.
And with that, you let go of the string. Erasing with it the memories that need to be forgotten. Washing away the pain you had to go through. And of course, finally releasing your masterpiece into oblivion where it lies.
It's done, it's gone.
And for some reason, as if the gods saw your strength and relief, the clouds clear off. The sun appears from behind the gloomy clouds. The birds sing and the kite's gone. You don't know where it is and where it has flown off to, and you don't really care anymore. You feel a heavy burden lift off your chest. It's finally over. It IS over. And it seems as if it has been centuries since you last smiled, since you last seen the light. And you know now, you are stronger than who you were.
The only thing you actually needed was to let go.
Marla Via blogs at www.pbandlove.wordpress.com.