Every day, during this time of fear and uncertainty, I’ll wake up.
And then I’ll just let go.
I’ll let go of my need to be a keyboard physician; my need to be the expert.
I’ll stay humble and remember that I am not an expert, I am an ordinary person with a job I never thought I’d miss this much.
I’ll remember too that I have strong feelings and opinions, but I’m not the police, and I don’t have all the answers. I don’t have any answers at all.
I’ll let go of tomorrow, and the day after, and next week, and even the next few months because my future isn’t guaranteed. It never has been. I know this deeply now, and I’ll take it to heart once again.
I’ll look at what’s directly in front of me, this moment, these minutes, because it’s all I have to hold.
And I’ll feel blessed inside my own existence in a way I never have before. I’ll finally understand what it feels like to not take my beautiful life for granted.
That (and only that) is what will help me be brave.
I’ll ask myself this question: When was the last time I really had to be brave? And this question too: Did it matter as much as this? I’ll know the answer to the second question without having to blink or think.
I’ll let go of my quest to know everything up to the minute. I will not plant myself in front of the news 24-7. I’ll remember that I do not know everything, and I never will.
I’ll do my best to trust.
I’ll do my best to give.
I’ll do my best to connect from a distance, not only to the ones I love and hold dear, but also to those who were lonely before all this began.
I vow to love as best I can, for love alone is what I can offer freely now, in this moment.
I’ll let go of my need to hoard my home with things other people need too.
I’ll let go of any and all expectations.
I’ll let go of any and all judgments.
Expectations and judgments do not serve my spirit. Or yours either, for that matter.
I’ll let go of my throbbing impatience.
My impatience for normalcy to return is a selfish thing when others are sick. Waiting for my freedom to return is nothing compared to waiting to recover from illness.
I’ll let go of some of my faraway goals.
Goals are good, but right now, they can be shelved because doing nothing at all is more important.
I’ll let go of blame.
Blame does not blunt a virus.
I’ll exhale my fears, and try, like the rest of the world, to abruptly switch gears.
I’ll digest a new normal, and let go of the past.
The past is no longer relevant, and there are new priorities now.
I’ll let go of my trepidation. I’ll watch as it dissolves into nothing, right into the day—I’ll watch as nothing becomes something that no longer holds me hostage in any way.
I’ll let go of my verbal shoot-outs on Facebook.
Because nobody’s right, if everybody’s wrong.
My words will become dust in the wind. I’ll send those words right down the river to fill up the sea. I’ll save my breath, my energy. I know it’s action, not words, that has always set me free.
And this time, the action required is to simply stop.
I’ll let go of my need to be everywhere for everyone.
I’ll meet myself only and I’ll stay right where I am.
Every day, during this time of crisis and chaos, I’ll wake up.
And then, I’ll just let go.
I’ll let myself be still, for once.
I’ll maintain my distance, and that’s when I’ll feel powerful.
I’ll wave to my neighbors from my window.
I’ll know I’m doing something exponentially substantial to fight this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad foe.
And this resolve will fill me with fire and a freshness fierce.
Fill me to the brim with promise and a mindful, purposeful presence.
What will be is unknown, but I am with you.
We are together in this.
We are warriors one and the same, the nameless and named.
We’ll eat prayers for breakfast.
Together, we’ll drop our heads in solemn request for mercy, peace, and wellness.
And comfort will come from knowing we are not alone.
With physical distance wide, we can slow the roll, make gentle this crashing tide.
“One day at a time” is a mantra that forever rings true.
We’ll let go,
the only way out is through.