Holding on and letting go — Jennifer L. Phillips, Ph.D.

One sunny day, I lay on a fallen tree for something like meditation. As I looked up, I noticed that, inside a mostly bare forest, I had nestled myself into a pocket of marcescence (trees holding their leaves through winter).

I felt tears prick my eyes—and a surge of kinship with these trees and their mysterious, tight grip on last year’s life.

The dead leaves fluttered, and a cool breeze brushed my skin with warm questions:

What are you holding tightly right now?
How are you experiencing that—here, today, in this moment?
Can you describe it with all 5 senses?
What does it feel like in your mind/heart/spirit?
How has this grip served you in the past? How is it serving you right now? (Honor these needs. 🖤)
How might it feel to let those “leaves” fall?
What space might that create?
What might grow in their place?

I wasn’t rewarded with precise answers, but I did feel a little more ease. It’s as if I settled myself inside a larger, simpler story—or onto a new perch, where I can watch for signs of new life. 🍃

I hope these questions help you too, if you need them. If you don’t, just pass them on.

An older version of this post published on February 23, 2022.

Every other Friday, I share 5 things to consider and a treasure chest of links in my Helping Friendly Newsletter. Subscribe here (it’s free).