Letting It Go

I did not choose the easy path.

At no time in my life, have I been under the illusion that I have an easy life. That things come naturally to me. That I am entitled, privileged, or otherwise lucky. At the same time, there are many ways I am incredibly blessed, and grateful for all the things I do have and receive. I get to choose, every single day, to recognize these gifts. I think they make me even more grateful for the hard work I do, that I am able to do.

I admit, there are things I do that are as effortless as breathing. But they are not things I have put energy into, honed or crafted or practiced. Singing. Dancing. Communicating. Loving. Giving.

But there are things I have dedicated my practice toward. Things like yoga {I've been practicing for 15 years}, being a writer {it was my major in college}, listening to women share their stories and experiences {it's not just my job here, but my path of spiritual service as well}.

So when I get comments from people telling me "It's about time you got a real job," and "I don't know how you thought you could make a living at a hobby," I'm not angry. I'm sad. For them. I want to scoop them up in my arms and wrap them in the most loving embrace. I want to listen to their stories, to learn what happened that made them hurt so much, caused bitterness and sadness and heartache. I want to know how I can support them in re-discovering THEIR dreams and inspire them to never give up.

Facing naysayers isn't easy. The ferocity of their words leaves scratches on my heart sharp as kitten claws, clamoring for affection. I try to think of them in the best possible light, but sometimes my own pain shadows the hurt they must feel, to lash out at another so harshly. I breathe. I send them healing light. I hold their heart in highest regard during my meditation.

And then I let it go.

I delete the comments {I get to choose to not share hateful speech on this site -- toward me or anyone else}. I quit out of the browser. And I let the words float into the blue sky like a balloon, caught on the current and soon too small to recognize. I choose to share my heart with light, not anger. And I move on.

This isn't always easy, either.

Some days, I just sit and cry. Not because I've let them win, but because choosing the difficult path is exhausting, emotionally overwhelming, and usually a real pain. Some days all I can do is sit and cry.

And then wipe away the tears, brush off the hurt, and go right back to doing the work I am meant to be doing.