#lettinggo — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #lettinggo, aggregated by home.social.
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The Beauty of Broken Things
I almost stepped over it.
It was just a piece of broken shell lying in the dirt, surrounded by pine needles, stones, and the debris that accumulates wherever nature is left to itself.
But then I saw the color.
That impossible blue against the earth.
And I stopped.
I wondered how many beautiful things we miss because we have already decided that broken means ruined.
There’s something almost absurdly beautiful about the broken turquoise shell lying in dirt and pine needles. It’s not beautiful despite being broken. The brokenness is what makes it visually arresting. The jagged edges, the pieces scattered around it, the contrast between that almost luminous blue and the ordinary earth.
And then there are those little intact forms beside it—whole, quiet, almost egg-like things. So you have this natural juxtaposition of whole and broken, becoming and becoming-undone.
We like the unbroken bowl.
The finished painting.
The relationship that works.
The body that doesn’t betray us.
The life that follows the plan.We tend to look at the broken thing and immediately think:
This needs to be fixed.
But what if brokenness isn’t always a failure of the thing?
What if sometimes the breaking is part of what reveals it?
A shell has to break for something to emerge from it. A seed has to split open. A fallen branch becomes habitat. A decaying thing feeds something else. Even the pieces of something that can no longer be made whole become part of the landscape.
And maybe people aren’t so different.
Perhaps we spend too much of our lives trying to return ourselves to a version of whole that never really existed.
A version only held in memory.
Maybe this is true of our memories, too.
A fragment here. A face there. The feeling of sunlight through a particular window. The sound of someone’s voice. A sentence we can’t quite remember but somehow remember how it made us feel.
We take these fragments and build a story around them.
And sometimes, without realizing it, we mistake the story for the thing itself.
We remember childhood as a place we could once return to. A relationship as something that was once whole. A version of ourselves we imagine we might somehow find again.
But perhaps what we’re remembering was never quite as whole as we believe.
What happens when we stop trying to put the memories back together?
Because maybe the fragments don’t need to reconstruct the whole.
Maybe a broken memory can simply be a piece of what was—valuable without being complete, beautiful without being entirely accurate.
The turquoise eggshell isn’t beautiful because you can reconstruct the object it once belonged to.
It’s beautiful as a fragment.
Some things don’t need to be made whole to be worthy of being held.
#awareness #beauty #experience #lettingGo #memoiries #memory #mindfulness #moments #nature #reflection #theBeautyOfBrokenThings -
The Beauty of Broken Things
I almost stepped over it.
It was just a piece of broken shell lying in the dirt, surrounded by pine needles, stones, and the debris that accumulates wherever nature is left to itself.
But then I saw the color.
That impossible blue against the earth.
And I stopped.
I wondered how many beautiful things we miss because we have already decided that broken means ruined.
There’s something almost absurdly beautiful about the broken turquoise shell lying in dirt and pine needles. It’s not beautiful despite being broken. The brokenness is what makes it visually arresting. The jagged edges, the pieces scattered around it, the contrast between that almost luminous blue and the ordinary earth.
And then there are those little intact forms beside it—whole, quiet, almost egg-like things. So you have this natural juxtaposition of whole and broken, becoming and becoming-undone.
We like the unbroken bowl.
The finished painting.
The relationship that works.
The body that doesn’t betray us.
The life that follows the plan.We tend to look at the broken thing and immediately think:
This needs to be fixed.
But what if brokenness isn’t always a failure of the thing?
What if sometimes the breaking is part of what reveals it?
A shell has to break for something to emerge from it. A seed has to split open. A fallen branch becomes habitat. A decaying thing feeds something else. Even the pieces of something that can no longer be made whole become part of the landscape.
And maybe people aren’t so different.
Perhaps we spend too much of our lives trying to return ourselves to a version of whole that never really existed.
A version only held in memory.
Maybe this is true of our memories, too.
A fragment here. A face there. The feeling of sunlight through a particular window. The sound of someone’s voice. A sentence we can’t quite remember but somehow remember how it made us feel.
We take these fragments and build a story around them.
And sometimes, without realizing it, we mistake the story for the thing itself.
We remember childhood as a place we could once return to. A relationship as something that was once whole. A version of ourselves we imagine we might somehow find again.
But perhaps what we’re remembering was never quite as whole as we believe.
What happens when we stop trying to put the memories back together?
Because maybe the fragments don’t need to reconstruct the whole.
Maybe a broken memory can simply be a piece of what was—valuable without being complete, beautiful without being entirely accurate.
The turquoise eggshell isn’t beautiful because you can reconstruct the object it once belonged to.
It’s beautiful as a fragment.
Some things don’t need to be made whole to be worthy of being held.
#awareness #beauty #experience #lettingGo #memoiries #memory #mindfulness #moments #nature #reflection #theBeautyOfBrokenThings -
Finding Your Higher Power: Trusting When God Removes People From Your Life
“Don't be worried about the people God removed from your life. He heard conversations you didn't. He saw actions you couldn't. So He made moves you wouldn't Losing someone can feel like losing part of yourself. We may ask why they left, what we did wrong, or why God allowed it. But sometimes, what feels like loss is actually protection. Learning to Trust Finding your Higher Power means trusting even when you don't understand. In recovery and life, surrender is difficult because we want […] -
Finding Your Higher Power: Trusting When God Removes People From Your Life
“Don't be worried about the people God removed from your life. He heard conversations you didn't. He saw actions you couldn't. So He made moves you wouldn't Losing someone can feel like losing part of yourself. We may ask why they left, what we did wrong, or why God allowed it. But sometimes, what feels like loss is actually protection. Learning to Trust Finding your Higher Power means trusting even when you don't understand. In recovery and life, surrender is difficult because we want […] -
Finding Your Higher Power: Trusting When God Removes People From Your Life
“Don't be worried about the people God removed from your life. He heard conversations you didn't. He saw actions you couldn't. So He made moves you wouldn't Losing someone can feel like losing part of yourself. We may ask why they left, what we did wrong, or why God allowed it. But sometimes, what feels like loss is actually protection. Learning to Trust Finding your Higher Power means trusting even when you don't understand. In recovery and life, surrender is difficult because we want […] -
Finding Your Higher Power: Trusting When God Removes People From Your Life
“Don't be worried about the people God removed from your life. He heard conversations you didn't. He saw actions you couldn't. So He made moves you wouldn't Losing someone can feel like losing part of yourself. We may ask why they left, what we did wrong, or why God allowed it. But sometimes, what feels like loss is actually protection. Learning to Trust Finding your Higher Power means trusting even when you don't understand. In recovery and life, surrender is difficult because we want […] -
Finding Your Higher Power: Trusting When God Removes People From Your Life
“Don't be worried about the people God removed from your life. He heard conversations you didn't. He saw actions you couldn't. So He made moves you wouldn't Losing someone can feel like losing part of yourself. We may ask why they left, what we did wrong, or why God allowed it. But sometimes, what feels like loss is actually protection. Learning to Trust Finding your Higher Power means trusting even when you don't understand. In recovery and life, surrender is difficult because we want […] -
Detachment is one of the hardest phases of The Reset. No one can tell you how long it will take. Are you really in Phase 3?
#TheReset #PsychozoicEra #Detachment #PersonalGrowth #LettingGo
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Detachment is one of the hardest phases of The Reset. No one can tell you how long it will take. Are you really in Phase 3?
#TheReset #PsychozoicEra #Detachment #PersonalGrowth #LettingGo
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Detachment is one of the hardest phases of The Reset. No one can tell you how long it will take. Are you really in Phase 3?
#TheReset #PsychozoicEra #Detachment #PersonalGrowth #LettingGo
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“I never look back, darling. It distracts from the now.” — Edna Mode. Keep the lesson, reclaim your focus. Read the full blog.
#PresentMoment #Focus #PersonalGrowth #Leadership #Reflection #DecisionMaking #MindfulAction #LettingGo
https://stayingalive.in/thought-of-the-day/the-discipline-of-staying.html -
The early morning is still dark when my hound and I arrive at the dog park. Almost immediately, there is a flash of white, and suddenly chaos ensues.
A cat is trapped inside the smaller of the two fenced-in areas. Even though a chain-link fence separates the two, both animals instantly go into a frenzy. My hound begins howling, while the terrified cat races back and forth, careening into the fence as it desperately searches for a way out.
I try to help it escape, all to the loud dismay of my hound, but the cat is too frightened to understand what I am doing. After crashing into the fence several times, it finally collapses low into the grass and simply lies there. I keep my distance, unsure whether it may be injured or sick.
Eventually, I leave the gates open and manage to pull my thoroughly over-hyped hunter away from the scene, fighting against everything years of breeding and evolution have taught her to do.
It takes most of the morning at home—and then a return trip to the now-empty dog park, where she follows one scent trail after another—before she finally begins to calm down.
Needless to say, it was not the most ideal way to start my day.
I, too, needed some time before I could let the chaos of the morning fade away.
And perhaps that was the first lesson.
There are some things that are better left alone.
That sounds simple enough, but I am not especially good at it. Neither, apparently, is my hound.
Once she caught the scent, something ancient took over. The world became very small. There was no longer a dog park, no morning, no leash, no person calling her name. There was only the cat.
I wonder how often I live that way.
Something catches my attention—a problem, a slight, a fear, an argument, a worry, some unfinished thing—and suddenly the whole world narrows around it. I circle it. I howl at it. I follow its scent long after the thing itself has disappeared.
There are habits in us that are older than our intentions.
The hound was not making a philosophical decision to terrorize a cat. She was doing what generations of hounds had prepared her to do. Her body knew before her mind could know.
Human beings are not so different.
We carry instincts of our own: to defend ourselves, to retaliate, to prove ourselves right, to pursue what frightens us, to hold tightly to what we think belongs to us. Sometimes we call these things personality. Sometimes, principle. Sometimes even righteousness.
But occasionally, they are simply old instincts running loose.
The spiritual life may involve learning that not everything within us deserves obedience.
Paul wrote about taking thoughts captive. Jesus spoke repeatedly of watching, waking, remaining alert. Perhaps part of discipleship is noticing the moment when something inside us begins to run.
There is a hound within me, too.
There are things I chase simply because they moved.
There are arguments that do not need another reply. There are offenses that do not need another inspection. There are anxieties whose scent I follow until I have wandered miles from peace.
Sometimes, faithfulness means pursuit.
Sometimes, faithfulness means calling the hound home.
But there was another creature in the story.
The cat.
The more frightened it became, the harder it tried to escape. And the harder it tried to escape, the more violently it crashed into the fence.
There was probably an opening somewhere. I had opened gates. I was trying to make a way.
But fear could not see the opening.
Fear only saw the threat.
So the cat ran harder.
I know something about that, too.
There are moments when I become frightened enough that I begin throwing myself against whatever boundary happens to be nearest. I want out of the discomfort immediately. I want the problem solved now. I want certainty restored.
And sometimes, in trying so desperately to escape, I hurt myself against the very thing I am trying to get through.
The Psalmist says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
We often print those words on peaceful photographs of mountains and lakes.
But perhaps they belong just as much at a chain-link fence.
Be still.
Not because there is no danger.
Not because everything is fine.
But because panic is not always capable of recognizing an opening.
There are times when running is necessary.
And there are times when running harder only drives us deeper into the fence.
Eventually, the cat did something remarkable.
It stopped.
It lowered itself into the grass and became almost completely still.
At first, I thought it might be injured. Perhaps it was.
But there was also something strangely wise about that surrender. When every frantic attempt had failed, the animal finally quit fighting the entire world.
Sometimes, this is where grace begins.
Not when we finally overpower the situation.
But when we stop exhausting ourselves against it.
“Come to me,” Jesus says, “all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens.”
Not: figure everything out.
Not: run faster.
Not: break the fence.
Come.
Rest.
There is perhaps a third lesson as well, and it concerns my own place in the drama.
I could not make either animal understand what I was trying to do.
The cat could not understand that I was trying to help it.
The hound could not understand why I was preventing her from doing the one thing that seemed most important in the universe.
From their perspectives, I was probably interfering with both of them.
Yet I could see something, neither could you see.
I could see the whole enclosure.
I could see the gates.
I could see the fence.
I could see the danger.
I could see the way out.
That thought has stayed with me.
Perhaps there are moments when God seems strangely obstructive because God sees the whole enclosure.
We pull toward something, and the leash tightens.
We run toward an opening and somehow find ourselves redirected.
We pray for one thing and receive another.
From inside our frightened or excited little worlds, divine restraint can feel like abandonment or interference.
But perhaps the One holding us back can see something we cannot.
The old prayer says,
Your will be done.
There are days when that prayer may simply mean:
God, if I am chasing something I should leave alone, pull me back.
If I am panicking against a fence, help me become still enough to see the gate.
And if I cannot understand what you are doing, help me trust that you see more of the field than I do.
By the time my hound and I returned to the dog park later that morning, the cat was gone.
Only the scent remained.
Naturally, the hound investigated every inch of it.
She ran from fence to fence, nose down, reconstructing the entire drama from invisible traces.
Eventually even those grew faint.
Her breathing slowed.
Her body loosened.
The morning became a morning again.
Perhaps that is grace too.
The thing that once filled the entire world eventually becomes only a scent in the grass.
The crisis passes.
The fear fades.
The instinct quiets.
What seemed moments earlier to demand every ounce of our attention becomes simply one more thing that happened.
And somewhere between the hound and the cat I recognize myself.
Sometimes I am the pursuer.
Sometimes I am the pursued.
Sometimes I chase things better left alone.
Sometimes I run terrified into fences that cannot possibly become doors.
The difficult wisdom is learning which is which.
Perhaps this is why the spiritual life requires so much attention.
To know when to pursue.
To know when to stop.
To know when to run.
To know when to lie quietly in the grass.
To know when the leash pulling against us is not punishment but mercy.
And above all, to remember that somewhere beyond the frenzy there may already be an open gate we are simply too frightened—or too excited—to see.Prayer
God of the open gate,
#Anxiety #beStillAndKnow #cat #ChristianReflection #Discipleship #divineGuidance #dogPark #Fear #FindingPeace #Grace #hound #instinct #lessonsFromAnimals #LettingGo #Mercy #openGate #Prayer #spiritualLessons #SpiritualReflection #TrustInGod
When I chase what I should release, call me home.
When old instincts rise in me—fear, anger, pride, the need to be right—teach me that not every impulse deserves obedience.
When I am frightened and cannot see a way forward, keep me from throwing myself again and again against the same fence. Slow my breathing. Quiet my spirit. Help me become still enough to notice the opening I could not see before.
Give me wisdom to know when to pursue and when to stop, when to act and when to wait, when to hold on and when to let go.
And when your restraint feels like a leash pulling against everything I want, give me enough trust to believe that you may see more of the field than I do.
Make me gentle with frightened creatures, including the frightened places within myself.
Let the things that consume me today become, in time, only a fading scent in the grass.
And when chaos narrows my world, remind me that beyond the fence there is still a morning, still a horizon, still grace, and perhaps an open gate I have not yet learned to see.
Amen. -
Cultivating Calm with Sunday Softening Practices
Last year’s unpredictability led my focus to waver; my essays, meditations, and Instagram feed transitioned from careful curation to something more spontaneous and less intentional. Despite the time constraints that challenged my efforts, my desire to maintain a presence remains strong, as I aim to share creations that, in turn, provide others with glimpses of the peace I have discovered through various mindfulness practices.
Finding Stillness
I am shifting back towards more deliberate, niche-centered posts that enable not only myself, but readers and viewers as well, to find that still point amidst the unpredictability of life. Although this unpredictability remains unchanged, my experiences over the past year have taught me patience and provided the wisdom to accept life’s inherent uncertainty.
Allowing Flow
We often hold assumptions and expectations without justification, which can cloud our judgment and hinder personal growth. This journey leads us to realize the significance of flow—not just as a concept but as a transformative experience that allows us to engage deeply with the present moment.
Reflection
It is a topic I’ve explored extensively in my essay, Open Awareness: The Gift of Gracious Acceptance, where I delve into the nuances of being open to life’s unpredictable nature. Embracing this mindset can lead to profound insights and inner peace. To complement these reflections, I invite you to explore the meditation below, which serves as a practical guide to cultivating this sense of flow and serenity in your daily life.
Gentle Reminders
I often revisit my own writings and meditations as life becomes overwhelming, making it difficult to maintain a sense of peace. We need gentle reminders and practices that we can slip into during hectic moments. Over the past few weeks, I’ve actively engaged with the basics of meditation, yoga, and lymphatic flow movement, aligning my mind, body, and spirit energetically to a state of calm amid the chaos. From this still point, I aim for my work to feel deeper, more genuine, and authentic.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.comWork Week Flow
I am on an inviting journey that embraces the comforting essence of Sunday softening. For many, including me, Sunday is that cherished interlude before the hustle of the workweek kicks in. It’s a day infused with serenity and anticipation. While meditation and writing ignite my creative spirit, I work full-time as a professional in chemistry and geology. This unique mix allows me to relish my Sundays as the slow day before diving back into a more technical workflow. This path not only enriches my experience but also offers you a touch of softness and warmth as you prepare to face the new week ahead.
Sunday Softening
Sunday softening invites you to take a moment to feel your breath and your body, actively noticing tension and where emotions reside in your body, and allowing for a gentle release. As you breathe in deeply, envision the air filling your lungs and nurturing your spirit, while you exhale, let go of the burdens of the week behind you. It serves as a small reminder of who you are beneath the labels, revealing the essence of your true self, which gets overlooked in the busyness of life. In this sacred time, allow yourself to reconnect with your inner being, appreciating the stillness and presence that is always available to you. Recognize that you can return to this mindful space at any moment, embracing the peace and grounding it offers, cultivating a sense of calm that can guide you through the challenges ahead.
These posts will be shared each Sunday on Instagram, Facebook, and right here. I warmly invite you to share your word in the comments, and together, we can create a safe space to hold those thoughts.
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#bodyAwareness #bodyScanMeditation #breathwork #cultivatingCalm #dailyMeditation #dailyMindfulness #digitalDetox #embracingUncertainty #emotionalFlow #emotionalRelease #feltSense #findingStillness #gentleReminders #goWithTheFlow #graceAndAcceptance #graciousAcceptance #grounding #healing #holisticWellness #innerPeace #innerStillness #intentionalLiving #intentionalRest #lettingGo #meditation #meditationTeacher #mentalReset #mentalWellBeing #MindfulLiving #mindfulMoments #mindfulness #morningMindfulness #nervousSystemRegulation #nonAttachment #openAwareness #peaceOfMind #presenceOverProductivity #reikiMaster #releaseTension #selfCare #slowDown #slowLiving #slowLivingMovement #slowSunday #slowSundays #somaticBreathwork #somaticExperiencing #somaticGrounding #somaticHealing #somaticMindfulness #somaticPractice #stressManagement #stressRelief #sundaySoftening #weekendResetA post shared by 𝖪. 𝖬. 𝖲𝖨𝖬𝖮𝖭𝖣𝖲 – Meditation Teacher || Reiki Master (@dandelion.doorways)
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In other news, I’ve been working on paring down my collection. Not in a “no longer interested” way, but in a “I’m committing to specialization and letting go of stuff I hoarded for little reason” way. I’ve contacted a friend who is a dealer - boxes and boxes of stuff ready to go. The good news is I will now have plenty more room to really begin laying out my real collecting areas in earnest.
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I am free https://mug.zouluvo.com/i-am-free/
#IamFree #freedom #independence #autonomy #empowerment #choice #confidence #innerstrength #lettinggo #openness #innerpeace #authenticity #selfassertion #courage #renewal #lightness #movement #horizon #future #fulfillment #breathing #balance #wellbeing #personalpower #serenity #expression #boldness #livefully #positiveenergy #liberation
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5 taoist ways of non-resistance. Which one speaks to you the most?
#einzelgänger #einzelganger #philosopher #quoteoftheday #philosophy #quotestoliveby #dailyquotes #thoughts #thoughtoftheday #lifequotes #strength #flow #embracechange #lettinggo #nonattachment #nature #taoist #taoism
