Fall starts with the equinox, and that is so typical of late September and October, this demand for more equal days and nights, equal times for light and dark, as well as equality in relationships1. The quality of light starts to change, becoming more muted. The hazy sunlight pools between buildings and trees, shadows seem softer and less dense, and trees prepare to let go of leaves.
This fall, I’ve been thinking about what it means to let go. We are urged to let go of past hurts, and to not hold on to grudges and resentments because they oppress and burden the present moment. Let it go. That is very sound advice, though easier said than done. But there is another kind of letting go where, in our pursuit of perfection, we let go of things we build because they are not perfect. I wrote a small poem about it:
Is she Always wiping the slate clean? Starting anew. Is she always letting go Of the things she does? People say To hold onto hurts from the past Is to drag yourself down. It’s baggage. Hurtful. Unnecessary. We must Let go of that which drags us down. But there is another kind of holding on. A holding onto things you build, That anchors, Without dragging you down. Is she Too afraid to hold onto anything? Is she always letting go? She knows To hold on is to take responsibility For the good and mediocre and awful Things she does. But it isn’t perfect yet, she says. Let me start again, she says. There is less of ‘me’ Each time.
This fall, I’m going to try a solution for this perfectionism, and it might work equally well for procrastination, self-doubt, or when I need to find more courage or optimism. I’m going to start by not being a perfectionist for a few minutes at a time and share this poem, my first in nearly forty years. Next, I’m going to be practice courage for a few minutes, and quickly schedule this newsletter.
I think of how even the days grow shorter (or longer) a few minutes at a time, and I’m optimistic!
I love hearing from you! Share your thoughts in the Comments section below or you can email me at writersomnibus@gmail.com. Thanks for reading!
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Hello, Libra season!
Beautiful poem, Priya.
The message behind it is an important one for us writers and the way you delivered that message is elegant.
I really liked the last three lines:
“Let me start again, she says.
There is less of ‘me’
Each time.”
I also really liked this description in the intro to your piece:
“The hazy sunlight pools between buildings and trees, shadows seem softer and less dense, and trees prepare to let go of leaves.”
Thanks, Priya — keep fighting that perfectionism :)
Lovely poem. Perfectionism is a spiral to nowhere. Thx for sharing!