Detach: letting go


There’s a theory that being tenacious means achievement and, with that achievement, comes abundance. That if I hang on to an idea, a hope, a dream … someone. Long enough. Hard enough. And never quit, never let go, but keep hoping. It might come true. That my one desire could manifest.

But at what cost to my inner peace?

I realized I had it all wrong. Fate is unexpected. It knocks you off your feet and landslides you without warning. An earthquake. Little or big. It still moves the earth with you standing in the center. You don’t see it coming and you’re not meant to. It’s a freight train gone off the tracks, heading straight for you. People enter our lives when they are supposed to and leave when they are no longer of service to our greater good. And that’s the cycle. Maybe you reconnect with that person again one day. Maybe not. Fate knows, but you don’t. You're not meant to know. I’m my worst enemy with fate. I try to create my destiny. Change my stars. Tell the universe what I want and what I need it to do for me. Because I believe I know what is best for my greater good. But I’m usually wrong. Mostly wrong. Always wrong. The definition of fate: the development of events beyond one’s control, by a supernatural power.

I can’t compete with that.

It’s the unanticipated moments when someone knocks on my door. The soft but powerful rapping of the unexpected. That’s fate. It comes to me. I didn’t have to go searching for it like I believed I did. That fortuitous visitor waiting outside of your home — that’s your divine plan. The decision you’re supposed to follow. Or not. Free will is at play here too.

But that’s another topic.

By trying to create a situation out of longing or needing, I close the door on my truth without even realizing I’ve punished my future to failure. It’s a cycle. A pattern. My self-made false fate. So, I’m learning to let go. To detach. To know when someone isn’t servicing my greater good. Even when my heart desires them. To understand that I’m not listening to my intuition, the divine feminine. She’s inside me. She’s in all of us. She whispers, sends signs. Angel numbers across the screen on your phone. A song from a memory randomly popping up on your playlist. Your birth date printed out on a grocery receipt. You might think nothing of it. But it’s happening for a reason. She’s trying to tell you to quiet your thoughts, silence the outside chatter, and just feel. Breathe. The most instinct habit for a person to perform is to breathe and yet we must remind ourselves to take that breath. Inhale, then exhale. Breathe.

It’s not fate if I try to create destiny out of desire.

With the detaching comes the sweet security of letting go. Trusting the unknown to happen. Faith. I’ve never had much of that. Patience. I’ve had none of that. But now I have both. I’ve learned to let go, detach, breathe. Inhale then exhale. Repeat.

I am in the dark about what my next chapter will be. But I accept the unknown and I welcome the faith, patience and trust that comes with my breathing.

Inhale. Exhale. Breathe. Fate.

No going back, no regrets.

Much love!

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