Letting go and decluttering your heart
What is it about hanging on to the sludgy parts of life? Do we really need to carry so much sludgy slurry around? Letting go and decluttering your heart is a big part of allowing the sludgy bits to dissolve, leaving you to make space for more of the good stuff. Besides which slurry and sludge smells. You only have to own a dog to know that!
Driving home one day one of my errant dogs was standing in the road far away from home covered nose to tail tip in stinky stuff – she was filthy and wet. I remember the smell as if it were yesterday. I unpacked the boot, covered the back seat and drove her home for a wash. She stood silently looking at me as I removed the offending grime, as if to say ‘what’s the fuss mum?’ Within 10 minutes the smell and the dirt was gone. For her I am sure it’s long gone from her memory, while I have it stored along with a prayer that it never happens again.
Getting slurry, foxes poo and other indescribable muck off a dog is far easier than letting go of traumas. These little critters clutter our hearts and just when you are least expecting it wham tears, anger or some other unexpressed emotion leaps out and smacks you around the face.
I practice the art of letting go in many ways. Getting rid of stuff around the house to clothes I no longer want has become easy. I learned after leaving two homes behind that you don’t need much. Every once in a while I do a sweep of the house and put things that no longer serve me in the utility room and from there they go to charity. The same happens with clothes, if they miss the ironing for several sessions, it’s clear that they need to adorn someone else’s body.
With matters of the heart, I wait until an appropriate moment and allow my intuition to guide me.
There has been something though that has almost defied me and that’s the last remnants of a dark demonic soul I was married to. It is as though some lingering grime still touches my soul. He is mostly erased but every once in a while, out of left field I am reminded of him. Not a pretty experience I can tell you.
Going back to source
Recently I took my first trip back to Wales, since escaping to Spain. I had been putting it off, but something came up that needed doing and so I found myself booking a last minute trip. The trip was an utter delight that warmed every part of my being. Seeing friends was in a word, perfect, it was if we had never been separated.
Taking advantage of spare time I became a tourist and explored the surrounds of Abergavenny.
A trip to the canal at LLanfoist unwittingly reminded me of a time when Ferdy Dog was trapped in the canal water. His eyes were bright with fear as he paddled for his life. The creature I was with was taking so long to get his boots off, that in frustration and without thought to my safety I was in the water and pulling Ferdy towards me. I called for help to get myself onto the bank and he yanked me so that I fell flat on my face. In a fury, I called him names, but there was no one home.
This memory flashed before my eyes and caused me to wince before I was called back to the beauty of the scene by my friend.
A few days later, I found myself driving to Goytre Wharf with the intention of going back to the meeting point for the first date. This felt like a great time and opportunity to release the final fiendish shards. I later discovered that this full moon was all about letting go. Perfect timing and guidance from the Cosmos.
I’d met Dickie Quick (my name for him) online. We met at Goytre Wharf for a walk which was as I said our first date. I wasn’t bowled over when I met him, but I was soon charmed and it was a great first date. This became a place that I walked often, meeting friends and exploring different routes and pubs. It has always been remembered with fondness. This day however, it was not easy to drive there.
It was my intention to write a note, turn it into a boat and set sail to it. What I hadn’t anticipated was the large number of people milling around. Finding myself a bench, I sipped water and contemplated what might be a fitting and final farewell. As ever I dragged out my journal and penned a short note. The note was a letter of gratitude for my freedom. He in being caught out had unwittingly given me a much treasured gift and so I said thank you and so long. Once the note was written and the water drunk, it was placed in the bottle, scrunched up, stamped on and chucked in the bin, along with all of the other useless rubbish.
Letting go and decluttering your heart
Examining the past can be upsetting, especially when you look back and see a set of repeated behaviours that might now seem cringe worthy. I like to think that despite everything that has happened, it was all meant to be and is just part of the journey, like a tough degree programme at the University of Life. Everything is a learning experience and a gift.
What do you need to let go of which is cluttering up your heart?
You can head back to meeting places like I did or you can travel in your mind. Find something that will powerfully disconnect you from the event. Find the gift. Write a letter of gratitude and set the words and emotions free.
Have faith that in that space is room for something far more valuable and loving. Consider the gift that you have been given and ask how will this gift serve me?
Inspiration from the book The Conscious Woman’s Guide: Tapping into your divine inner wisdom (release date Spring 2017)