'Release.'

Easy to say. So difficult to do.

I have been reflecting upon some of my recent experiences with releasing - things, thoughts, feelings - and how this is bringing real healing to my life. Allow me to share three personal stories to show you what I mean.

One - Releasing Possessions

A few months ago, I moved back to Canada from Australia. I had to pare down my possessions to four suitcases: two for me to carry, two for my mum to help me carry (side note - my mother is an amazing human who traveled all the way to Australia with only a backpack so that she could help me carry things home). Everything in the entire world that I owned, in four suitcases. Naturally, art supplies and books comprised the vast majority of the load.

More than once during the process of giving away and selling, I felt pangs of anxiety and 'pre-missing' for my things. What will I ever do without my car? I'm going to miss this desk so much. What if I need to look something up in that textbook from a course I took twelve years ago?

My circumstances, however, forced me to release these things. I simply couldn't physically carry them back to Canada. And now, a few months down the track, not having those things doesn't negatively affect me at all. I have enough space in my bedroom to do yoga, and I'm re-filling all of my bookshelves with new books from a local bookshop. I share the car with my family, reducing both the cost and the responsibility on me. Letting go of possessions opened my physical space up for other things I enjoy more and causes that I support - like buying local!

Two - Releasing Thoughts

Living with chronic mental illness, a constant battle for me is against negative automatic thoughts. My mind immediately assumes the worst about a situation and I tend to ruminate on how I think other people are perceiving me (which, of course, is always negative to my mind). One of the many tools in my toolkit for navigating my mental health problems is meditation.

When I meditate, I focus on the sensation of my breathing. Cool air flows in past my nostrils, and warm air flows out. My lungs fill, and empty. My belly rises, and falls. It's very difficult to think about much of anything (let alone anything negative) when you are really paying attention to your breath.

Even better is the fact that I know I will keep breathing whether I think about it or not. It's hard to quiet my mind this much, but the more I practice, the more I find myself able to completely stop thinking. Even about breathing.

The benefits of this are that for a few moments of my day, I am free from the negative, from worry, from the false narrative within my head. When I have a difficult moment later in the day, I can remember the feeling of freedom I have during meditation. I know things will get better.

Additionally, meditation is a huge boost to my creativity. My best work happens when I'm not trying to 'achieve something.' When my mind is still, I can draw from my intuition or even just from a goofy idea. There's no pressure to make the next Mona Lisa when you're just having a play. Letting go of the need for perfection and the self-imposed pressure means my art flows freely.

Three - Releasing Control

Gardening is having a dramatic balancing effect on my control issues. When you grow plants, a few things are in your control - when you plant, when you water, fertiliser, the location of your garden. Pretty much everything else is in the hands of the universe. Heat, frost, sun, rain, wind, infection, invertebrates, weeds, pollination, compost and decay, soil conditions, and so much else is simply out of your hands.

This year, I had two 'problem herbs': basil, and dill. About half of my basil plants died from the cold (not even a frost, just too cold for basil). The ones that lived were yellowish and didn't have many leaves. My dill plants grew very well indoors, but when I moved it out to my garden boxes, one night they inexplicably just died.

My first inner response was to blame myself: 'I should have known better than to try to grow basil in Nova Scotia.' 'I must not have watered enough.' 'I probably used the wrong sort of fertiliser.' 'I should have made sure the compost wasn't too hot.' 'I must have overcrowded the garden boxes.'

Then I read a wonderful book called The Witching Herbs by Harold Roth. One quote which particularly stood out to me reads:

When you work with a plant spirit, the herb is a sacred text that you can read to learn about the spirit. And that spirit has its own will and its own desires that may not match what you want to achieve.

Whether you believe in literal plant spirits or not, the message is the same - sometimes you are just not the one in control.

After reading this, I marched out to my garden boxes, and worked up the courage to say to my plants, 'I release you to go and do what it is you want to do. If you want to stay and grow, I will help tend you. If you have somewhere else to be, your spirit is free to go.'

So what happened? My basil plants are now enormous and producing faster than I can harvest. Turns out they just needed more warmth! The dill, on the other hand, died completely. But, amazingly, I discovered the cause - they'd been eaten by three beautiful black swallowtail caterpillars. One of these caterpillars is now a chrysalis and will soon emerge as a butterfly. So I lost my dill, but fed hungry caterpillars that will become pollinators for many more plants.

The moral of the story

Release is not a static concept. I find myself having to consciously work at it every day. I try to ask myself, to what am I holding on? How is it building me up? How is holding on improving the situation? If it isn't - release. Then when I feel myself holding on again - release again.

In the end, I think there is only one thing that is really worth holding on to: love (for yourself, and other living things). This may manifest in your family or friends, a special place, a pet, a garden, or a dream. If the intention behind everything you do is pure love, you can know nothing but success.

- Kiva-Marie