Letting Go

I’m grateful for a super-early, cloudy morning. I’m grateful to be at my desk, drinking coffee. I’m grateful for being where I am. I’m grateful to see the right things show up at the right time. I’m grateful it’s Friday. I’m grateful to be sober today.

Mystery ?? Button

song of the week:

One of my favorite punchlines is “Well, the matador often wins, but sometimes the bull wins, too…” I’m not sure how that’s connected to the song of the week. I think the only ridiculous costume Captain James T. Kirk does not wear in this montage, is a matador costume.1 But I could be wrong.

This marries two loves of mine: Steve Miller and this song, “Space Cowboy,” and, of course, Star Trek. I watched a lot of Star Trek and was undoubtedly profoundly shaped by it somehow. I have no idea how. The song? It’s kind of a battle-anthem,

For some reason, I was thinking about this song when I was on my son’s ship last weekend. The image of him on the bridge of the ship gazing through the super-powerful binoculars is what came up for me. The trip was amazing, but what was more amazing was getting to see him at work. I got to see how much people respect him, how he’s a natural leader, how other people know they can count on him. He has a pretty important job on the ship and the thing that really gets me was the way the Master Chiefs snapped off salutes to him. I saw them occasionally toss semi-relaxed salutes to the other junior officers, but it was different with my Lieutenant, and it was impossible to not notice. You know how proud I said I was last week? Well, double that or something.

Anyway, the video made me laugh and that always moves the needle with me, especially on a Friday that caps an exceptionally busy week for a certain aging veteran. I had snuck down to the 44th floor reception area to get a coffee and a snack, it was about 3:30 and I realized two things:

I’m at a place in life that I really didn’t imagine and it certainly wasn’t part of an intricate plan. It happened when I stopped trying to determine results. It happened when I did my part, the next right thing, showing up as myself, working hard and being kind. This is not me patting myself on the back, it’s me recognizing that those are the things I can do, the things that are usually within my power. How did I get here? To this place where things are really, really okay and I’m happy?

I finally learned what letting go meant.

This is a phrase I actually very much hate. I used to hear this from the therapist-of-the-month or during a stint in rehab or in a 1-on-1 session at the IOP because I had tested positive yet again. When I would spill out whatever it was that was tearing my psyche apart, a relationship, or at work, where I was not sufficiently treasured and adored, I would hear these same words over and over,

You have to let that go.

Here’s the problem: I had no idea what that f****** meant? I used to rant that I’d be all over this “letting go” thing—just give me the instructions and I’m off to the races. No one could give me any more specifics, they’d just repeat themselves,

You have to let that go.

There is a quote attributed to Buddha:

The “not meant for you” part is the heart of this. While I was drinking, while I thought I was driving the boat, I had a pretty solid idea of where we were supposed to be headed and what our ETA should be. Now, I don’t think there is anything wrong with having goals and aspirations; , I think it’s actually really important—but it was more important to realize that I’m just a cog in the great machine of the Universe—whatever that is and however that works.

I’ve been watching a fair amount of “Rick and Morty” lately. For some reason, I’m find myself taking notes on how to be a grandfather—I think there is a lot to be said for Rick’s approach. I like how he uses way over-complicated things to solve routine tasks. I’m very familiar with that mindset, although I don’t have the time-travel thing down. But look out when I do.

Anyway, in one episode, there is a line attributed to Rick about the despair created by the realization that in the vastness of the universe, we are literally nothing. Which is true—at some level. I find myself asking, then why am I here? This next part is an exercise in faith and belief, and reasonable minds will definitely differ on this point, but my own personal belief is that there is some “reason” we’re all here and that we bump into other people’s lives and our own lives bounce around and so on and so on in pursuit of this “reason.”

Maybe it’s true that our entire Universe is encapsulated in a single electron, or that we exist as figments of the imagination of a 13 year-old boy and ChatGPT version 265. I guess it’s possible that everything is random or probabilistic, but in that view, nothing means anything; Life is simply an exercise in making the best of it.

I don’t buy that. I’m not sure how any of this happens, but I think there is a power that binds us together. It doesn’t work, at least for me, by forcing me to do certain things, it seems to work more by eliminating choices for me. This is not a pleasant process, and I have learned that I’m not required to wait until the Universe has shown me that I’m out of choices to make changes. I think we bounce into each other with some elements of randomness, but there is also a purpose.

I think we are meant to learn from each other—the challenge for me was not understanding in advance what it was I was supposed to learn. I’m cool with this learning stuff, but why don’t you tell me what the degree is? But that’s not the point, and that is definitely above my pay-grade. The other hard part was learning to accept that sometimes the lessons were meant for the other person; I was simply an actor in their play, somehow helped them to get from point A to point B. But I didn’t know anything about that, I only knew my part.

That turns out to be the essence of letting go. I think it’s more accurately described as doing my part and trusting that will be enough. I don’t lay awake anymore wishing I had done or said things differently; If only I had done this, or that, things would have turned out differently. Those are the thoughts that drove me to a barstool again and again. The thought that helped me get sober:

The things that are supposed to happen, generally do happen.

Just not on a schedule that I can put on my calendar, or in a way that I can anticipate. I have to believe that whatever happens, well it was something that was supposed to happen for me or someone else. My job is to do my job: Be kind, show up as myself, work hard and gracefully let go of the things that aren’t meant for me.

What is meant for me? I don’t know. It feels like I’ve been waiting for a very long time to find out the answer to this very important question. But then I realize it’s not an important question at all, in fact, it is probably unanswerable. What’s meant for me is the very next moment and the only thing I can change is myself in that moment. I think the things and people that are meant for me, can’t be avoided. The right things have a way of coming around again, like comets orbiting the solar system.

Letting go is actually an exercise in faith and belief and it’s not a negative thing. I think it has more to do with realizing that the pesky right thing will eventually present itself at the right time and in the right way. How will I know? I think we can’t avoid the things that are supposed to happen and that includes the right things. Even if they seem far away for now.

When I headed for the subway home last night, after a very, very busy day, I noticed how happy I was. I was happy when I realized that I had sesame noodles in the fridge; I was happy when the Express 6 pulled up just as I set foot on the platform. I was happy when I got to sit. I was happy as I walked through my lovely, lively neighborhood and so happy when I walked into my apartment, with all of my lovely views, with all of the lovely feelings I get here. I realize—this is the thing that’s supposed to be happening now.

And it’s beautiful, this life I get to lead. It’s full of meaning and possibility. It’s full of personal growth and hard work. It’s full of the right things. The catch is, if you’re holding on to the wrong things, the things from the past that were never yours, or the things that were never meant to be permanent, then there is no room for the right things.

The more I tried to fill my own cup, well, the more Sauvignon Blanc I had to drink.

Letting go turns out to be one of the most important parts of sobriety. I had to let go of the life I thought I was supposed to lead. I had to let go of the belief that I wasn’t enough for the world, as I was. I had to let go of the fear that I would never find my right place in the world. It turns out, it was a lot more straight-forward than I thought. I simply had to recognize that the right place is here and the right time is now. Right where I am. Right where I’ve been placed.

Happy Friday.