'Let go'

I am reading a book 'The Tibetan way of Living and Dying' and it often talks about impermanence in life and power of letting go. It makes me reflect on my own life and I realize I have never been able to let go of things. Rather I almost get glued to them in some inseparable ways, be it people, places, experiences and feelings or for that matter things like dried leaves or old dried rose buds I have safely treasured in my books. I cant let go off anything and this manifests at its peak when it comes to worries. I can worry about anything in this world, I worry about my inability to sleep thinking of it as possible symptom of underlying depression, I worry about plant not growing well or rather dying and think it is my fault that I am incapable of taking care of a plant. I think I have always been this 'worrying' child. I remember one funny incidence from my childhood. I must be 5 or 6 and still not smart enough to understand beautifully synchronized mechanism in our throat that allows breathing and swallowing without mixing the two. So this five year old me one day refused to eat anything because i was afraid that I wont be able to breath while I am eating and that scared me of death. 15 years later in my physiology classes in medical school, I had a moment of realization that my worries about suffocating to death while eating were well thought of by the nature (god, for those who believe in our creation by god) and I also learned about those unfortunate patients who are at increased risk of suffocation to death where this natural mechanism fails.

What made me think of all this again. First, I am unreasonable when I have cold. I just cant deal with it as it makes me so uncomfortable but I personally feel, simple illness like cold should not affect my everyday life in any substantial ways. but in reality cold affects almost every aspect of my everyday functioning. To add to it, yesterday I tried to pack a bag for Amsterdam. I kept looking into my closet, into my bookshelf and kitchen closets and realized how much I have accumulated over and above what I had brought from home in last six weeks. They are piles of clothes, nicely folded and arranged, there are jackets and sweaters put up on hangers. Do I use all of them? No , not at all. I use the same clothes almost every week. Then why do I have so many clothes there? May be in case if I need them. What if it gets too cold and I need layers of sweaters and jackets? The fact is in Begijnhof, my apartment is so warm that I almost need no warm wear here but I am not going to be here for ever. In fact I am going to Nijmegen during cold gray months of winter and I dont even have a room to stay. The students from last year told us that the heating was so poor in many of those student apartments. There I go worrying again. I am without a roof and I know it is going to be cold and hence I need to keep all my warm clothes and also the shawls just in case there is a risk of freezing to death. So I looked at my wardrobe in despair but there was nothing that I could really throw away from it.

Then I looked at my summer clothes. The lovely dresses and skirts. Can I get rid of those things? They are not all new, some of them are 6 years old but I still fit in them. The problem these days is that the clothes dont get spoiled, thanks to the revolution in textile, detergent and washing machines industry. I cant throw away things unless they are not suitable for any more use by anyone, myself or the others. Hmmm, I should get rid of summer dresses but then that is not going to work. I am going to be in Italy from April to June and do I not want to flaunt my summer collection in one of the fashion meccas in the world? Well, lets not talk about my fashion quotient. It is terribly low, almost on the side of disaster but still I am not going to be bundled up in my long sleeved turtle neck shirts and layers of warm clothes in Italy. I need my clothes unless I am capable of buying new clothes for Italy. I dont think I can afford that. So even summer clothes are to stay and visit Nijmegen with me as there is no way they could be shipped to Padova before hand.

Let me take you to my kitchen. I call myself 'mistress of spices' just for the amount of spices that I have in stock with me. I love cooking Indian food and I do it everyday. So there is some utility of these spices unlike my clothes who sit in my closet like obedient students. But then, how much spice do I need to cook for myself over next 7 months? Not that much but then I have accumulated this wealth of spices over last whole year in Amsterdam. Every Indian friend who left Amsterdam, left their leftover spices in my safe custody and I was more than happy to receive those spices. I cant say no. So my accumulation of spices went sky rocketing and it took me a while to realize that it was impossible for me to use them all. I stopped accepting anymore spices but I could not find people who would like to have some of them rather than buying them in the market. Here I am with 4 glass bottles, 5 packets and few more plastic pets filled with different spices. And by now you know, I cant let go off them either. So, I have two bags of clothes and one bag of spices and cookware, the most important being my roti tawa and pressure cooker. I almost feel disabled without these few specialized utensils. But then there are little mugs and bowls, the mug which is the first thing every morning to touch my lips, I cant let him go... no, he starts my day with such a tender kiss. There are little candle stands and there are off course my potted plants. How can I leave them behind or throw them in one of those 'green garbage' bags. They have kept me company during my stay here, some of them have died and got sick, may be because they took on themselves all my troubles and worries and I am going to leave them behind with a cold heart.. no that is not going to happen. What about those roses, should I hang them upside down and dry them so that they can travel with me? And while all this was pounding in my head, the angel in Begijnhof brought me two plants with bulbs of purple hyacinths. I made her a deal that she would take them back when I leave on 17th and she kept hoping that they would bloom into flowers before I leave. Thank you angel.. I like this, I have a friendly ghost in Amsterdam and an angel in Begijnhof to keep me out of troubles...

So this is my story about getting attached to material belongings. Can you not guess how it must be with people I meet and friends I make. I can cry rivers of tear while saying goodbye to people, not always in public though. In public, I manage to put up a strong face, almost one of being in complete control of my emotions but beneath that is uncontrolled feeling of loss and pain and sobs. But very few people (even those who know me or believe they really know me) have any idea what I am at the core of my soul. Far from how I appear and how I get perceived. The book also talks about letting go off loved ones and relationships but how do I do it? Especially now, when I feel I am nothing without him while he is somewhere without wanting to say a word. How do I let go off him if he was never really with 'the unexpressed, unseen me'? How do I let go off him when I still hope to hear from him? How do I let go off him when almost a part of my existence got torn away from me and went with him as he drifted in the ocean of silence. Just like the tape on gift wrap paper sometimes takes away a big chunk of paper torn in ragged borders, ugly and painful and almost impossible to be healed? They taught us a surgical incison is easier to heal as it is planned incision with smooth borders taken along the line of natural lines of skin, fascia and underlying tissue. The problem with heartbreaks is that it is very rarely a surgical incision, they just tear open the tissue in most ragged ways and hence unlikely to heal to its normal self ever again. But if the heart muscles continue to pump blood even after scar tissue following heart attack, may be the woulds of heartbreak will also heal eventually.

Then come the lines from the poem Eternity by William Blake:

He who binds to himself a joy,
Does the winged life destroy;
He who kisses the joy as it flies,
Lives in Eternity's sunrise.