Last summer I was driving home from a hair appointment, listening to a podcast.  It was a truly beautiful day and a beautiful ride, as I used to drive all the way to my old hometown for my hair and the roads between here and there are fairly beautiful ~ winding through green, lush countryside.

The podcast was Goop (obviously).  I am a big fan of Elise Loehnan’s guests and the conversations and she was speaking with a Swami … something-or-other.  I apologize for my ignorance but I can’t seem to find the information anywhere.  What I know is that what he said has stayed with me since, drifting in and out of my conscious mind.  Lingering in the shadows of my emotions, my reactions, my life choices.  Quarantine and COVID were incredibly challenging (and continue to be so) and something that this wise man said in his conversation with Elise (I believe at one of the In Goop Health summits) has grounded me when I’ve felt like I was on the edge of a cliff.

It was about the idea of attachment.  And that our human unhappiness and dissatisfaction is always linked back to attachment.  Attachment to things, yes, but also to ideas, philosophies, traditions, the ‘way things have always been.’

It hurts and is uncomfortable to grow.  To expand.  As humans we cling to familiarity, but also with known quantities.  We describe most things in terms of other things … such as, my MS is like feeling really really tired, times ten million, all the time.  I am using the notion of fatigue as the basis for my description.  Assuming that everyone has a rudimentary understanding of being tired.  But what if that was taken away from me?  How would I describe it then?

In this year of global reckoning and (hopefully) growth, I believe humanity has routinely found itself uncomfortable.  Clinging to the known quantities.  Unwilling to expand and try a new perspective, or a new level of understanding because too much was changing, there were too many moving parts.  We (the collective we) chose to cling to ideas of safety, of ‘the good ole days’ because that nostalgia gave us peace, comfort.  Instead of acknowledging that our comfort in those times perpetuated other’s discomfort.  Yes, that acknowledgement hurts.  And it’s hard.

We are attached to ideas.  We are attached to memories, or things that we have put our faith in, built our personality on; the building blocks of who we believe we are.

I am attached to the idea of equality.  But does my definition of equality include everyone?  If I do a self-examination of (white) women’s quest for female empowerment, am I willing to concede that it did so on the backs of BIPOC and didn’t fight for the equality of all women, but merely white women?

I am attached to a notion of family, but does my family reflect that?  Have I based my ideas on reality and am I holding people to standards that are unfair?  Am I judging others on qualities that only exist in my own idea of family, rather than the reality of what my family actually is?  Flawed, human, different than me  …. How can I hold others accountable for unspoken expectations?  For wishes and dreams?  How can I be angry or disappointed if they don’t live up to what I’ve built in my mind?  … I can’t.

My mother used to say “It’s all just stuff.”  It’s simple and direct and can be interpreted a million ways.  But I think of it like this ~ what we choose to carry with us, to define ourselves, to create our foundation … it’s all just stuff.  The ideas, the belief system, the popasahn chair.  It’s stuff.  And we can be as attached as we want to be.  We can cling to things, we can be immoveable.  Or we can be fluid, we can be open to change.  I vacillate between the extremes, trying to force myself to be as open-minded and thoughtful as possible.

I don’t always succeed.  But I’ll keep on trying.

xox, g