Is there pride in letting go?

This question has the potential to open a floodgate of many others. The first that comes to mind is why does one have to let go at all? Why can’t one have prized possessions forever? One could replace ‘possessions’ in this question with relationships, jobs, favourite foods, or bright ideas that no one bought. Then there are the hurtful memories that one holds on to because they’ve become a habit and seem to fill a void, or provide a (false?) sense of security.

However, even as I visualize this ‘foreverness’, it feels excessive and unreal. There’s that inevitable thing about growing up, realizing that life happens, and that not letting go isn’t an option. Painful much? So, why does one have to grow up? I think I’ll let that one go.

If letting go is axiomatic, perhaps the more important question is what’s the best way to do it. New hair style, wardrobe makeover, or screaming one’s lungs out from the top of a skyscraper? Some may prefer bingeing on caffeine or writing poetry. Also, how about getting wet in the winter rain, baking a chocolate cake with chilli in it, or kicking a wall?

A stress-busting massage is often advised. Sex on a rocky beach, if one can do it without disturbing any humans or crabs, might also open up new vistas.

Can one ever let go entirely though? Is it as easy as cutting off the string and letting the kite float away? I suspect it’s more about striking up a truce with the memories, thoughts or whatever it is that one’s letting go. They can be around, even as long as one lives, but only as friendly phantoms – to make you reflect, be cautious, smile, shed a tear or two, but never to overwhelm.

Parting thought: In a bitter-sweet mix of letting go, there may be place for relishing a note of pride as well. Pride in having given it’s one best, having stood one’s ground, having survived against all odds, or in something good coming out of it all.

Just a pinch of it though, just enough for the mind to soar.

Main graphic credit: Souvik Rakshit