Every struggle in your life can be relinquished. This statement seemed incomprehensible to me when I first heard it. I had been struggling with people since I was a child. It began with my dad. I simply wasn't going to be told what to do when it ran counter to my wishes. Truth be told, I was spring-loaded to fight back, even when he was right—which was not all that uncommon.
For years, my reaction to my dad seemed unalterable. He was often angry, something that set me on edge because, when he was angry, all of us became targets for his ugly criticism. As a child, I criticized right back. As a young girl, I argued and felt protective of my mom and younger brother, who were my father's primary targets. Eventually, my penchant for arguing turned to almost daily angry outbursts that were not unlike his own.
My two older sisters seemed to escape the family struggle that I experienced—a realization I only came to as a grown woman. But my mom and my brother and I were engaged in a drama that played out almost every evening.
It was many years later that I learned of the fear that lay beneath my dad's anger. And I have come to believe that fear always lies at the root of our anger. It's created by the ego, which loves to be in charge of every aspect of our lives. Both my dad and I were held hostage by our egos. It wasn't a pretty sight. Our dance wasn't a smooth one. And as I grew older, I repeated this dance in relationship after relationship.
When my dad told me, through clenched teeth, about the childhood experience that had initiated his life-long fear, it saddened me and dramatically changed how I looked at him. His parents' rage had colored every day of his life and, when I tried to comfort him, he couldn't hear me. He wouldn't hear me.
Later, my dad and I talked about his work. He had been a banker, a successful one. I had felt so proud to tell my friends where he worked when I was young. I was more than a little sad when he said he went to that job full of fear every day, afraid that he would make a mistake that would cast a long shadow over his professional reputation. Nothing I could say or do could shake his resolve that his own perfection was a must. I finally understood why he was always so tough on all of us. We were ordinary humans who made mistakes, a fact in which he could find no peace.
Because fear is at the heart of so many disagreements—I'm inclined to say all of them, actually—it isn't easy for us to relinquish our position in an argument. Fear takes a hold of us and won't let go. The ego fights us at every turn to keep us in the grip of fear. It loves cultivating that fear because that keeps it in control. But simply coming to believe, however slowly, that we can survive the decision to let go of our struggles, regardless of what initiated them, is like a gift we didn't know was coming. The prospect of letting go of our struggles is so unexpected that we doubt it can be possible at first—and sometimes that doubt lingers for years.
When I first heard the phrase “Let Go and Let God,” I shook my head in mild disgust. I was sitting in an Al-Anon meeting. The year was 1974. I didn't believe in God at that time, nor did I think there was anything to be gained by letting go of any situation in which I was enmeshed. I was intent on controlling outcomes and people! My lack of success didn't keep me from trying, nor believing, that if I could only come up with the correct rationale, I'd eventually change others.
I was in the right place that night, but it actually took many years before the meaning of “letting go” got through to me. Practice, continuous daily practice, is what finally changes our minds, then our behavior. I had many years of spoiled relationships to practice on before I began to really get the gist of letting go. And then, it took more practice still. Needless to say, I'm still practicing.
Being able to embrace the concept of relinquishing any situation that is causing inner turmoil, or letting go of a person who isn't behaving the way we want them to, offers the greatest sense of freedom we can ever experience in this classroom of life. To think we can do it once and for all the first time we try, however, is unrealistic. My experience has shown me that old habits and old fears die hard. The focus many of us have on other people and how our lives would be better if only they would change can be extremely seductive.
And yet, change we can. Letting go of people and situations has finally become easier for me. Some days, I still falter—but that's okay. My resolve is constant. And that's all that matters. The time it takes us to achieve this freedom isn't really relevant. We know without a doubt that, to get good at anything—anything at all—we must be willing to do the hard work. The good news is that our willingness to do that work is met more than halfway by Spirit, which dwells in us always.
Practice, Practice, Practice
The idea that you never travel alone, but are always One with Spirit, is not an easy concept to embrace. Your ability to let go of struggles and reject fear comes from the commitment you make to practice—just like learning how to play golf or the clarinet or the piano. It is only through constant attention to this commitment that you can finally turn your back on the fears through which the ego controls you.
In my case, I had discarded any notion of a God long ago, so the suggestion that all aspects of life would be easier if I chose to acknowledge His Presence wasn't very appealing. But so much about my life was painful, not at all peaceful, and ultimately pretty self-destructive. Giving in to the idea of a Presence who was willing to help finally seemed to make sense.
Had I done it sooner, I would have been relieved of lots of pain. However, what I believe now is that I “came to believe” at the right time. In fact, I have come to believe that everything that happens in your life and mine happens only when the time is right.
Does it make sense to revisit all the old relationships that I strangled because of my inability to let go? Or to re-experience the struggles I so often initiated or the fears that held me hostage? I think not. I've concluded that letting the past be past—it's said that even God can't change the past—is the key to a life of contentment. Being free to live this moment with the knowledge that we can walk together in Spirit, unfettered by the desire to make those we meet be other than who they are, assures that we can all walk the path of peace.
Now in my eighth decade, I have embraced at last the true value, the unending value, of letting others be. I have learned to turn my back on my fears and let all situations I encounter be as well. I know this means that my remaining years will be as peaceful as I am willing for them to be. Was time wasted? For sure. Does that matter? Not in the least. Now is the perfect time for me to rejoice that this principle has called my name.