Faithfully Letting Go

Breathing Out What Has Been, Breathing In What is Becoming

Sometimes it seems like my whole life has been a practice of letting go. Letting go of fear, doubt, limiting beliefs, troubling memories, uncertainty about the choices in front of me. I’ve taken some big risks over the years, both personally and professionally. And I’ve gotten better at sensing what may be waiting on the other side. Still, letting go remains an ongoing practice.

Moving to a new community two and a half months ago has offered the opportunity to choose anew how I show up. And to be clear about what I choose to say “yes” to and what I graciously say “no” to. Underneath the surface, those choices are really about letting go of roles, responsibilities, and identities from my past while reclaiming parts of myself I have at times shied away from. So, step by step, I’ve been “letting go” and “reclaiming.”

The ancient Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu said: When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.

In 2009, I took a small group of seekers on a mystical journey to Egypt. Several days into the trip, we were in the Black Desert, a part of the larger Western Desert several hours west of Cairo. I had climbed one of the dark sandy basalt mountains and sat down to meditate. As I settled there, I looked back and noticed my footprints in the sand.

Soon, one of my fellow travelers joined me, noticing her deep footprints as well. We sat together in silence. After a time, she confided quietly, “I came on this trip because my life has to change. I have to let go of so many things that hold me back.” We sat in the vast stillness of the desert a little longer, only speaking a few more words. After a while, the wind picked up and we stood silently to begin our descent. As we looked back at the paths we had each taken up the mountain, she said in amazement, “Look, my footprints are gone. The wind took them away. My past is gone.” I noticed the same with mine. That moment was the first of many letting go experiences of that trip for all of us.

The Black Desert, Egypt (Photo: Alan Seale)

The older I get, letting go of what I am—letting go of the ways I have identified myself in the past—has gotten easier. In some ways, it’s even been a relief. As I strip away masks, identities, and ways of showing up that are not fully aligned with who I am at my core, I am more able to fully inhabit the presence that is mine to bring now. It’s not that I wasn’t inhabiting it before; it’s that I’m finding the courage to live into it even more.

Making this recent move has opened a spaciousness within my being that I haven’t known until now. Which allows letting go to become a way of living. A way of navigating life that offers greater freedom because, moment to moment, I’m embodying who I’m called to be, how I’m asked to show up. And I’m only saying “yes” to what feels aligned with that calling.

About ten years ago, I had the chance to spend time with John Philip Newell, one of the most prominent writers and teachers today of Celtic spirituality and Western contemplative practice. We first met when he was in Boston to speak at Trinity Church in Copley Square. Over the next couple of years, we met again in Boston and then at Chautauqua where he was preaching for a week. We shared meals, and being only a year apart in age, we spoke at length about where we were in our careers and how we might pass our work on to others. Letting go.

In his talk that first time we met at Trinity Church, John Philip told a story about an extraordinary group of Irish nuns who were “faithfully letting go” of their order. They had acknowledged that the order was dying and were in a very conscious process of accepting the reality of their circumstance. They were no longer seeking new novices; they were no longer trying to keep their order alive. They were being incredibly intentional about “faithfully letting go.”

As I listened to John Philip tell that story, I began to see “faithfully letting go” as a proactive process. With the nuns, it was a powerfully intentional act of witnessing and blessing the dissolution of their order, as well as their personal passage from what had been into what would come next. It was a “faithful” process in that they had a profound trust that something else would come if they would let go of what was no longer viable—what no longer had a future.

As John Philip spoke, I recognized how similar the nuns’ “faithfully letting go” process was to the way we talk about “surrender” in Transformational Presence—not as “giving up,” but rather as “giving over” to something greater. And then partnering with it for the co-creation of what could come next. His story gave me a deeper understanding of letting go, whether that was into my next calling, my next emerging truth, or the next chapter of my life journey.

When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.
—Lao Tzu

As I write now with all that is happening in our troubled world, I can’t help but feel like we are all being asked collectively to practice “faithfully letting go” of what no longer has a future, and partner with a bigger vision that is trying desperately to get our attention.

Towards the end of his talk, John Philip introduced a breathing practice to accompany the “faithfully letting go” process. It was quietly powerful, especially practicing it with a large group. And I found it gently healing as well. Returning home, I adapted the practice for my personal use, and I share it with you here. Allow the text below or the recording at the top of this essay to guide you through the simple practice.

The “Faithfully Letting Go” Practice

In preparation, notice that when you take a full breath in, your upper body naturally lifts up ever so slightly. And then when you breathe out, your body naturally sinks down a bit. Take a few slow breaths to become acquainted with this pattern and then continue when you are ready.

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Let your breath settle into its own natural, steady, even rhythm. As you find that easy rhythm, imagine that you are breathing in and out through your heart, allowing your breath to be deep and full. Give yourself some time with this “heart” breath. Even this alone can be a gift.

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As you settle into a quieter presence, ask your heart: What is next for me? What is waiting for me to notice? What part of me wants to shine?

Accept whatever comes, and rest in that awareness.

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Now ask of your heart: What must I let go of so that I can step into what is waiting?

Rest in whatever comes. Take your time.

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Now notice again the natural “lifting up” as you breathe in and the “sinking down” as you breathe out.

And as you breathe out, “let go” of what it’s time to release. Continue your natural, steady flow of breath, “letting go” each time you exhale.

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Now let your in-breath “lift up” what is waiting for you—the part of you that now wants to shine. And as you breathe out, “let go” of what it’s time to release. Continue this breathing pattern for as long as you wish.

When you feel complete for now, take another moment in the silence to be with what you’ve experienced. Then before you leave the practice, consider when you might return to it again.

“Faithfully letting go.” Every time I return to this simple practice, I come home again.

Simple. Gentle yet steady. Step by step, breath by breath.

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