Isn’t it a little weird that the hit song “Let It Go” is from a movie called Frozen?
I mean — one is all about fluidity and movement, the other about being stuck in one place. Maybe there’s something here I’m not getting. In any case, the lyrics have got me thinking about all the times I’ve experienced the need to push something aside or watch it evaporate, versus the times I’ve experienced the need to hold on to something for dear life. It’s about even, I’d say, but still counting.
Even though I didn’t like the song when I heard it on the Academy Awards – belted out so forcefully, the thing lost whatever charm it might have had –I gather that it has a really broad appeal. My son who’s a senior in college says his friends even like the Disney ditty. What’s up with this? Here’s the UTube version…
One look at the words tells me that this song is in the same family as a bunch of other proclamation-type, pound-fist-on-table songs, like “I’m Coming Out” and “Fame”– just to name two. They’re all about owning up to who we really are, bursting through any strictures (not scriptures, don’t worry) and boldly proclaiming our full power as individuals. Oh, and this usually requires saying “the hell with it” to some goals, like trying to please others, we once deemed important.
I haven’t seen the movie, but the line “Let the storm rage on!” reminds me of good ol’ King Lear out on the heath, stripped down and willing to take whatever Nature dishes out to him. Where there was flattery and concealment before, there’s just raw truth now. And it’s plenty cold, even with rain not turning to ice.
On the other hand, the concept of “letting go” more often has a peaceful feel to it. I don’t have to be a clergy spouse to know that religion pads in on quiet feet to this territory. The ultimate letting go, of course, would be dying; but we all have lots of opportunities to practice the activity along the way to that destination, too. Just by dropping an article of clothing and not retrieving it, perhaps (more on this in a minute); or by choosing not to make a retort to a remark that is practically begging for one.
We’ve all heard the expression “Let Go, Let God.” I’m not sure I get it completely, but it sounds like we might be able to fall back, collapse even, into protective arms behind us—similar to the trust exercise they do on those outdoor adventure programs. Based on the success of her book, a Christian writer named Regina Baker has organized a whole conference, happening this spring in Houston, with this mantra. According to her website, just about everyone among us who’s suffered a loss qualifies to attend. I’m all for getting support, but I’d be a little reluctant to wear a T-shirt announcing, “Today I Let Go.” Frankly, if all of us went around letting go all the time, surrendering what Baker calls our “self-will,” don’t you think we’d look, well, a little limp? Years ago, someone gave our family a small stuffed toy man called “Mr. Copeless.” He had perfected the art of relinquishment so completely that he couldn’t even sit up straight.
My favorite experience about letting go has to have been my red dress on the highway incident, kept in my memory under the title “Whoooosh.”
I was driving to a family celebration up in Maine, with two kids in the back seat. My really wonderful scarlet dress was on a hanger, minding its own business. Suddenly, with absolutely no warning, out it went – as if it had some really urgent business– through the partly open window. In the rear view mirror, I saw the people in the car behind us gesticulating wildly, trying to point the direction it had gone, no doubt. But that dress was HISTORY. I was too shocked to know what to do then, but one thing I definitely didn’t do was shrug off the loss. On the way back from the party a couple of days later, I slowed way down at that stretch of road and instructed the kids to keep their eyes peeled for my treasure. We did see a dash of red material on the grass, and I pulled over with hopes high and ran over there – you can imagine the gales of laughter from the back — only to find some kind of burlap feed bag.
This picture (not of the actual dress, mind you, but a pink substitute) gives you some idea of my dramatic loss. “Let it go” indeed, because sometimes you just have no choice.
I know, I know – it’s the end of the essay and I haven’t gotten to the “hold on to something for dear life” part. Maybe I’m exaggerating just a bit when I use that expression; but don’t you think that we ought to be pretty clear about what it is we don’t want to let go “whoooosh” out the window, if we can possibly help it? The well-being of the people we love — for starters. Our set of principles about how to live as best we can– for another. Sometimes it might feel like we’re hanging by our fingertips, but we try to keep our grip.
As for that girl who gleefully embraces her power to turn everything into ice….isn’t she like, so last winter?
Edith Allison
……and then there’s the idea we hear about (paraphrasing here) that to really honor what we hold dear,
we are to consider not attaching. I take that to mean “less or no ego” on our part, (hahaha, not so easy) since our ego can crowd out what’s important if it overdoes its useful job of keeping us going along. I have some
ego/nervousness about my first time posting 🙂
Go, Polly!!
Margaret Bullitt-Jonas
Loved your essay, Polly. I kept wanting to jump in at various points and join the conversation. Thanks for the LOL story of the red dress — whoosh. About that “self-will” thing — the problem of course is “self-will run riot” (to use the phrase of the 12 Step program): the overpowering urge to control, force, and generally try to make things go My Way. I don’t know what that conference lady, Regina Baker has in mind, but at least in the 12 Step program, the idea is to surrender one’s autonomous, self-enclosed, self-centered self-will, so that a deeper, more authentic and wiser Self can emerge and be expressed. OK, the 12 Step program doesn’t use those capital letters, but I do. Little bossy grabby cling-y self (that’s me on my own, self-will run riot) v. Self (who knows when to hold on and when to let go).