It seems like ages ago now, but around the time that both my kids were researching and applying for colleges, my neighbor was also enduring his last days.
The intersection of all of these monumental events had me feeling one way: Helpless.
It wasn’t a feeling I knew what to do with. After all, I have always been someone who thrives on action. I like to have control; to have a game plan; to solve.
These were situations where none of that was possible, and so I put my neighbor’s name on a card. I put the word “college” on a card. I put other things I’d been persistently worrying about on cards. And I dropped them into an open jar.
I told myself what I knew to be true: I don’t have control over these things, and so I must release them to a higher power, whatever that spirit/god/universe is.
Once in the jar, I relieved myself of worry, knowing there was no point in thinking or dwelling on the things inside. I could put them there knowing they would be taken care of. I could have that space back for creativity, presence, and love.
I let the jar remain open, knowing, like a butterfly, those things would fly when they were ready.
A few years later, I found the jar. I pulled those cards out, astonishing myself with how those things truly did come together as they were supposed to, without my intervention; without my worry influencing the outcome.
Fast forward to this year, when my word for the year made itself known to me: Release.
After mornings of waking up weighed down by worry, diving into the day with concern and uncertainty that I didn’t want to bring into my art, my relationships, or my self-compassion, I knew that it was time to bring the release jar practice back.
To honor February as a month of love, I cut little hearts from an expressive painting of gouache I’d done with the inspiration of The Creativity Course by Larry Moore, and I began to write my concerns down.
I added them to the jar, set it on my windowsill, and let the lightness settle in.
Each time I see the jar, it’s not a reminder of what I can’t control; it’s a reminder that I don’t need to control it all. Everything will be taken care of. I don’t need to worry about it anymore.
This practice isn’t about abdicating responsibility. It’s about acknowledging what I can and cannot control, and releasing that which is outside of my grasp.
In the coming weeks, months, and years, I hope you can do the same.
Release the things you cannot control… even if it’s something you’ve been nurturing for years.
Sometimes things need to fly free to figure themselves out, and in the meantime, you can experience the levity that will allow you to show up in your life, your relationships, and your art as you wish to.
(And if you need a reminder that you are enough, head right over here.)
P.S. If you’re willing, share your release jar with me. I’d love to see a picture, and to send releasing vibes to your worries with you. Drop it here in the comments, or post it to social with the hashtag #cindyharrisart. Thanks so much for being here.