On Monday mornings I walk to the U.S. Congressional Cemetery. When I walk somewhere I enter a vortex of energy that is larger than me. I enter a path, a stream. When I set out to walk two Mondays ago, I heard a voice that sounded like the wind. It said, “Just let go. Just let go. Just let go.”

I think of letting go as a blank slate, a deep breath, an opening to something larger than me and mine. I get it intellectually, but how in practical terms with hands and feet and heart do I let go? What is this dance of doing and being?

Cynthia Winton-Henry led us in a ritual during her Friday morning InterPlay class. InterPlay is about noticing grace and playing around with it. She told us she wanted to feel letting go in her cells.

The closest I get to letting go is saying to myself “What’s happening right now is good enough for me. I trust what’s here.” Even though I suspect things will be better in the future, right now they are just as good as they can be.

It’s like the beautiful film Garden State I watched recently. I worried about when the starring couple would have their first on-screen kiss and then three-fourths of the way through the movie, they did and it was the most perfect moment.

Perhaps letting go is those fractions of a second in life when I know that at any given moment something I didn’t think was possible is in fact happening in a way I never imagined.

Letting go is whenever I’m supposed to come to clarity or closure with something, I will. Whenever I’m supposed to move to Reunion or Djibouti or Greece, I will. Whenever I’m supposed to get this book proposal done, I will (see ‘p.s.’ below for an update). What will be will be.

Choice and destiny are friends, not enemies. In fact, they are frenemies whose taut relationship keeps us curious and relentless in pursuit of something more.

So how do you let go? You start by simply acknowledging that our every step, our bodies, and our lives exist inside a vortex of energy that is way bigger than we can ever hope to grasp. Maybe letting go is simply getting used to this – getting used to vastness. I let go with each breath, with each Monday morning walk to the cemetery where my body flows between ease and contraction. This is what is means to play around with grace. This is what it means to trust what’s here.

p.s. Take a look at InterPlay’s new website ! So pretty…

p.s.s. Book proposal update…

Although it’s happening a lot more slowly than my ego would like, I am daily making progress on the writing of my book proposal since I declared this in my last blog post.. I’ve clarified the arc of the book significantly in working through Eric Maisel’s The Art of the Nonfiction Book Proposal. I’ve researched complimentary titles, and it seems like there is currently no book on the market that is just like the one I intend to write, which is good news in publishing.

The past two weeks I’ve struggled a lot to polish my sample chapter, the hardest part of the proposal to write and, not surprisingly, the most important to agents and editors receiving memoir submissions. I am under constant attack by inner critics who have some pretty big fangs. It feels like trying to run through water.

A wise woman I know wrote to me yesterday: “I hope you are balancing patience with yourself and challenging yourself.” This is a reminder I really need to hear.

Thanks so much to all of you who wrote with your well wishes. Your affirmation helps me so much to keep at it.