Learning to let go shows what really matters

Learning to let go shows what really matters 09.01.07

I heard a program on NPR a few years ago called “This I Believe,” modeled after a program by the same name from the fifties piloted by Edward R. Murrow. Ordinary people- a pizza delivery boy, a cab driver- and famous people- Penn Jillette, Eleanor Roosevelt- had written short essays about what they believe. The prompt espoused the writer not to focus on what they did not believe, but rather something they truly believed in their hearts that guided their lives.
After reading the book of essays, I realized that I could not think of anything to write a “This I Believe” essay about. I could think of so many things I didn’t believe, but not one I believed in deeply enough to write something inspired over. In fact, I couldn’t think of one thing I believed that wasn’t tainted by sarcasm or something dark.
We live in troubled times, as any news report will tell us. I think a great deal of what’s wrong with the world is that we’ve stopped believing in this deep-down-bottom-of-your-heart way. We don’t care about anything that much.
We believe in our country enough to badmouth it, but we don’t care enough to try to change it. Our patriotism is summed up with bumper stickers and signing a few petitions. We believe in animal rights enough to disdain Michael Vick, but we’re not out volunteering our time to local organizations. We believe in education enough to be here in college, but we’re using Spark Notes instead of reading great works of literature.
Most essays were about religion, America, children, and advice from mom. Some were more creative- believing in sending cards or a need for quiet. I am not particularly religious, and while I love this country, I can’t say that losing our men is worth Iraqi freedom. I don’t have children, so I can’t speak about the beauty of childbirth or raising one. My mother has given me some pretty good advice, but that advice doesn’t resonate with me on a daily basis. I do like sending cards, but I don’t deeply believe in Hallmark. I also enjoy the quiet, but by nature, I am a loud person. Nor do I believe that all people are good at heart, or that love conquers all, or that I learned everything I needed to know in kindergarten. At twenty, am I not a little too young to be so cynical?
We are a young country full of young people, full of untested ideals. Most of my beliefs, when tested, fell apart in my hands. My belief in religion floundered as the religious people I knew became more and more hypocritical. My belief in words waned when I couldn’t find the right ones. My belief in books dissipated when the books stopped being able to give me answers to life’s big questions. So can I honestly say I truly and deeply believed in any of them? The things I’ve believed in my whole life sound trite at best- good shoes, that dogs are better than men, and old-fashioned cleaning is the best therapy- seem even a little worse than trite.
“This I Believe” seems to want a little more than my belief that amazing shoes are a foolproof recipe for success in life. So, this I believe: I believe in letting things go.
That’s different than forgiveness; I’m not one to forgive or forget easily. Letting things go means there is more room in my life for what makes me happy. Mailing a diamond necklace back to my ex and throwing away everything he gave me in a car wash trash can (that way I couldn’t get it back) allowed me to open my heart and my dresser drawers to someone new. Letting go of past relationships made room in my heart for a new love that has surpassed the old loves I used to know. I let go of old fights with even older friends because I wanted room in my days for long breakfasts and longer talks about nothing. Letting go of my anger over my boyfriend joining the Army has allowed me to enjoy military balls and made me a little more patriotic. Letting go of my fear over my dog’s heart problem has allowed me to truly listen to the experts and research his condition to ensure that he’ll live a healthy life.
This isn’t to say that I’ve forgotten all about the past, the things that scare me, or people who have hurt me- I haven’t. After detaching myself from inane arguments and yesterday’s relationships, I’m able see what really matters. Letting go of the past allows me to look at it more objectively, and, more importantly, allows me to learn from it. This, I believe.