Fr. Paddy’s Blog

September brings a rich feast for our senses. Autumnal colors are very beautiful. In many ways’ autumn is a season of letting go. harvest has been gathered, fruit has ripened and leaves now tired fall to the earth. There is something spiritual in God’s creation that is very palpable in the month of September.

The Art of Letting Go is about deciding to stop making the same mistakes and choosing to take a different path. It has been said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I totally agree. When we hold onto things that weigh us down, that negativity turns into baggage. The more baggage you have, the more it clouds your view and the more you feel like carrying that baggage around is the only way to live. Your baggage-cluttered perspective becomes the viewpoint from which you see the world.

But how can you have a positive outlook when all you see is negativity? The truth is, you can’t.

That is precisely why you must learn what to hold onto and what to let go of. When that happens, your momentum increases, you feel lighter and, most of all, you know your worth. In life, we are all going through the growing pains of becoming the person we want to be. For some people, the pain is too much, and they give up. Instead of moving forward, they decide to stay stagnate and hold onto the very things that keep you down. In life we will have to let go of things, people and situations; when we understand and embrace the process, we allow ourselves to be abundant within. And when we are abundant within, the abundance spills into the other parts of our lives, families, relationships, careers and finances.

I know letting go is painful and scary, but if you don’t let go, you miss out on the life you always wanted, the life you deserve. This is the process of breaking up with the old in search of the new. You are not doing this out of selfishness, but because you can acknowledge that the old no longer is the right place for you

A psychology professor walked around on a stage while teaching stress management principles to an auditorium filled with students.  As she raised a glass of water, everyone expected they’d be asked the typical “glass half empty or glass half full” question.  Instead, with a smile on her face, the professor asked, “How heavy is this glass of water I’m holding?” Students shouted out answers ranging from eight ounces to a couple pounds. She replied, “From my perspective, the absolute weight of this glass doesn’t matter.  It all depends on how long I hold it.  If I hold it for a minute or two, it’s fairly light.  If I hold it for an hour straight, its weight might make my arm ache a little.  If I hold it for a day straight, my arm will likely cramp up and feel completely numb and paralyzed, forcing me to drop the glass to the floor.  In each case, the weight of the glass doesn’t change, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it feels to me.”

As the class shook their heads in agreement, she continued, “Your stresses and worries in life are very much like this glass of water.  Think about them for a while and nothing happens.  Think about them a bit longer and you begin to ache a little.  Think about them all day long, and you will feel completely numb and paralyzed – incapable of doing anything else until you drop them.” It’s important to remember to let go of your stresses and worries.  No matter what happens during the day, as early in the evening as you can, put all your burdens down.  Don’t carry them through the night and into the next day with you.

If you still feel the weight of yesterday’s stress, it’s a strong sign that it’s time to put the glass down.

The Sacrament of Waiting 

Slowly

she celebrated the sacrament of letting go.

First she surrendered her green,

then the orange, yellow, and red

finally she let go of her brown.

Shedding her last leaf

she stood empty and silent, stripped bare.

Leaning against the winter sky

she began her vigil of trust.

Shedding her last leaf

she watched its journey to the ground.

She stood in silence

wearing the color of emptiness,

her branches wondering;

How do you give shade with so much gone?

And then,

the sacrament of waiting began.

The sunrise and sunset watched with tenderness.

Clothing her with silhouettes

they kept her hope alive.