Thoughts on holding on

I never knew how much I was holding until I was given permission to let go.

In my breath. Bent over in a child’s pose my teacher’s palm on my stomach saying breathe.

Jacky relax. You’re holding. Let go.

And how does it feel to be light?

I dance. I sing freely. I look more deeply into people’s eyes.

I find the smallest things - a flower, a swallow, an orange - might move me.

They contain infinites, and if I listen with my whole self, I might hear them.

You are not so scary with your face in the light. You were so scared yourself. How could you have known it was ok to be seen? You had not had witnesses before to show you so.

It is evidentiary. You did not have precedent. Until you did.

It is not mere ground to stand on. It is the field, the soil, the very fertilizer you’ve held on for.

Let go.

Breathe.

You are safe now.

Let yourself sink in. There is life in these roots, yet. For you to grow into.