One of the most popular songs in the last twenty years is from the Disney movie, Frozen. Let it Go has been embraced by every age group, demographic, and virtually every country. It’s used in dance recitals, middle school band concerts, professionally orchestrated recordings, figure skating programs, and even baby toys. Not only is it musically an exciting, blood-pumping composition, but everyone relates to the words – everyone except me.
I have always been an emotion hoarder. I don’t ever want to release people or things, or experiences that I love. I hate it when someone says to me, “Just let it go!” I can’t. I drown in sentimental reminders and mental memorabilia; I don’t want to accept the fact that almost everything comes to an end. Oh, I don’t have layers of junk littering my home, but in my mind and heart, I never want the last performance to end, for the friends to move away, for the students to grow up and leave. I have always been afraid of loss.
However, I have learned so many things through loss that I would never have learned any other way. Loss is a part of life; it’s a given that we can’t avoid no matter how hard we try. But wisdom is NOT a given. Although more and more experiences rack up the older we get, wisdom is not an automatic result. What we learn and how we use the experience is a choice we make in the midst of our pain. Those choices can develop our wisdom.
It is easy to allow pain and loss to define how we see ourselves. When a foot surgery first put an end to my performing career, I didn’t know how to identify myself. Friends would introduce me to other people as “the dancer,” and I felt compelled to say, “Well, not anymore.” I felt diminished for what I considered a failure and a loss in my life. I was told that everyone transitions out of dancing eventually; it’s inevitable, especially when a career such as ballet is so brutal to your body. But I thought I could keep going for as long as I wanted. No matter how much pain I was in, I figured that if I could still schlepp myself across a stage, then I was fine. But I was wrong.
When my husband passed away, there was absolutely no way that I could bring myself to let go. Do you remember the scene in the movie “Titanic” after the ship sank, and Rose is on the broken wooden door, floating in the black, freezing water? Jack, the love of her life, is in the water, trying to stay afloat while Rose is clinging to his hands and head, and promising with all her heart that she will never let him go. Jack finally freezes to death, but she can’t let go. Perhaps she was thinking, “Is there any worse betrayal than letting go of a person, a true love with an identity that was not only his, but half yours as well, and letting go BY CHOICE? – even if you are grabbing on to someone or something that you don’t really have anymore? How can you consider a choice like that?”
Choice is the key word. Facing reality, realizing there is a future and a hope, and running towards that is the wise choice; it’s the beginning of wisdom. It’s difficult, because there is a bit of misplaced guilt in letting go and moving forward. I think we (at least I) sometimes feel it’s a selfish move to pursue life after making a vow to “never let go.” However, we are created to make our own mark in the world. We each have a specific purpose, regardless of emotional ties and relationships. Who we are never changes. Sometimes our path in life is parallel with someone else’s, but at some point there will be a fork in the road. When the other person’s path turns off from ours, it doesn’t mean that our own path stops. Memories should not be a road block in our path. We don’t have to try to cling to memories, because memories cling to us no matter what direction our path takes us.
If even identical twins have different fingerprints, that is proof of our individuality. Wisdom would dictate that we use that individuality and unique experiences – good and bad – to set our paths apart. That means we all have a different purpose that is of value to someone else.
Moving forward means you have learned. Someone else’s experiences contributed to yours so that you are finally able to move forward. For me, being able to move forward is a tribute to my husband’s life and the significance he brought to mine.
Letting go is not giving up. It’s climbing up.
So, let go and let’s go dance on.
Grace Notes 