Non-Attachment through Puppy Walking

There's more to the story, but basically I wound up as a "puppy walker," which means I have a puppy who lives with me until she's old enough to start serious training to be a seeing eye dog. The deal is she comes with me everywhere, like I can't leave her alone for more than an hour or two, and I take her to obedience classes and keep her alive and well for a year and a half until she's old enough to start serious training.

I know, I'm really nice.

And I'll tell you what. I have never been asked the same thing more in my entire life than I have while walking this puppy. You probably already know what it is, because you've probably already thought it reading this post. "Won't it be hard to give her up?" is the first thing out of literally everybody's mouth when they understand the deal. Universal.

So yea, rub it in. Remind me that I'm going to be giving up that smooshy sweet puppy face that lives with me 100% of the time and comes with me everywhere and is my joy and snuggle bunch. Don't worry, everybody says it.

To be honest, raising a puppy is hard work, not to mention the damage done to my home and property. (One of the deals I have about this job is I don't mention the details about that "puppy stuff" so I don't give the wrong impression about the role. But it's there.) So sometimes when people say, "won't it be hard to give her up," my real feeling is NO, it won't be hard. I'll be happy to see her go. She's a pain and I have to take care of her all the time and bring her everywhere and talk to everyone about how cute she is and how sad I'll be when she's gone.

But that's not all true. I will miss her of course and I sometimes tear up when I imagine her walking with her harness being someone's transportation and how smart she is and how good she'll be doing her amazing job. And I thought that would be the non-attachment part I'll have to do, and it probably will be. I'll get to practice non-attachment when I say good-bye to her in a year.

In the meantime, I get to practice non-attachment with myself and other people and their predictable comments. I live right downtown with no yard and lots of transient people who are new to her every time I walk outside, which means I have to engage with people every single time she needs to pee. Having an adorable puppy with me removes my veil of anonymity and makes me a target of attention and opportunities to interact. I haven't had that since my daughter was a baby when total strangers would cross the street to come and say hello.

I've changed over the months and I don't mind talking to people and answering questions about her. I don't feel anxious or impatient about it. I've come to expect it and even enjoy it. I feel more patient with the world and I have noticed I don't mind waiting in lines or things that used to bug me don't bug me so much. I feel grateful for what's happened through this process of puppy walking that's only just begun.

I'll share some of the cute photos of her here so you get to know her. (KC the yellow lab still visits but she doesn't live with me anymore.)

They Grow Up So Fast

I remember when I was pregnant with my daughter, someone told me "they grow up so fast." I'm sure many people told me that along the way but I do remember one time when it just stood out and I took it in.

I know they grow up fast. I know I can stay present so it doesn't feel like it's going by so fast. And then sometimes - bam - it feels like it's happening so fast.

At first it was the little things - when she liked to eat - then that would change. Or what she liked to wear. What her favourite colour was. Just when I thought I had it down, it would change. Just as I got used to her being little, she grew. As soon as I got used to her knowing this much, she showed me she was aware of so much more.

I knew she was getting on a plane today - I bought her the ticket for heaven's sake - but I didn't realize that I wasn't ready for her to go away for two weeks. I know it's not a long time. I know I'll see her down at Omega in two weeks. But knowing that didn't take away the surprise pang of missing I felt when she got in her dad's car this morning to go to the airport.

She even said, "Mom, do you want to come to the airport?" and I said no. I'd already made up my mind I wasn't going this morning. I have other things to do. And I do. But that sweet surprise feeling of "Wait! Don't go! You're my daughter and I'll miss you for two weeks," just sort of jumped out of nowhere.

I know this is a preview of her leaving many, many times in the future. There will be so many goodbyes and hellos I expect. This one just caught me off guard. I love her so much and I love being her mom. What a great relationship that is. I guess sometimes I take it for granted because it's always just there - the fighting and hugging and challenging and joking - and this morning I have a little taste of that being not there. Loving a teenager - it's an awesome challenge and I love it! Sniff!

(Update: she's cleared Customs and I have permission to use this picture from last week.)
(Update #2: she wanted to read the post and the picture below is of the text she sent me. Sniff!)

Hoarding Workshop - Now that's Some Real "Living Yoga"

So this is maybe a longer story than just a blogpost but here's where I'm at. I'm in the middle of an 8-week "De-Cluttering Workshop" as the "guest" of someone who has identified themselves as someone who perhaps lives in what some people might call a "hoarded environment."

(My boyfriend is a hoarder. Or has been, up until recently.)

Okay, I have to fill you in a bit more so here goes. When I met Steve two and a half years ago we connected instantly and can remember the moment we first saw each other. We spent lots of time together and he started coming over to my place and hanging out. My sister said what's his place like and I said I didn't know I hadn't ever been inside and she threw out the phrase that hadn't even crossed my mind, "maybe he's a hoarder."

"Hey Steve, I was talking to my sister and she said maybe the reason I haven't ever been over to your place is because your a hoarder, ha ha ha." Silence. And to this day he recalls how he knew me well enough by then to know that a deal breaker would be lying, so he said something like, "yea, well, that's maybe one way to describe it, she has a point, heh, heh."

So we broke up. And obviously things happened to bring us closer together and there's more to the story...

Without going into the gory details, we have had a great relationship but how we did it was we had most of our relationship at my house and he kept his place mainly to himself until he was ready to do something about it.

That time came two months ago. Steve gave notice to his landlord and said he wanted to move out at the end of May. The pressure was on. I asked him if he was sure, could he do this, did he need to rent some space because he could see those things he'd been saving were not going to have room at my little place.

We had already established that it was probably better for our relationship for me to not be the one to help him sort through his stuff. Over the past couple of years when I went over there it was not good. Recently, he had an amazing friend help him do the daunting task of actually going through the stuff a bit at a time over eight weeks and making progress rather than tossing everything out, which we learned would be dangerous. I found I could be supportive from home and not have to go in and get upset by the space, because it was upsetting to me almost every time I went over.

In the meantime, I saw an ad for a Hoarding Support Group in the paper. I let Elaine Birchall know that Steve had already given notice so we were maybe a bit further along but she said it would still be helpful and we signed up. The Hoarding Support Group consists of a dozen or so people who have identified themselves as having a clutter problem and if they have someone who can be of help to them, those people are there too, for no extra charge.

We started a month ago and every week I want to jump up and down and say "do you guys know you're doing yoga?!?" To take a look at our lives and to take steps to create alignment that will allow the flow of energy and bring people into our space - there's yoga there. Taking a look at our objects and our attachment to them - that's yoga. Seeing how the false sense of comfort we get from our belongings that will deteriorate over time is holding us back in living our lives fully - that's yoga!

Sometimes I meet people who ask me if my boyfriend does yoga. He doesn't do yoga postures so much, but is he a yogi? Has he walked the path of looking at his life and bringing himself into greater alignment? Absolutely.

May 31st has come and gone and Steve's place is empty. Value Village has loads more things to sell and there's a lovely apartment for rent along the canal in Ottawa. A quiet miracle has happened to a special man in my life and I'm thrilled for him and inspired by the massive change that has come about through his transformation (he read Anthony De Mello's The Way to Love daily throughout all of this).

I love it when people take a look at their lives and see what's there. Every time, something good comes from it. I've never seen people take a look at their lives and have bad things happen from it. So whether it's Landmark Education workshops or Makata Living Yoga programs or Hoarding Support groups, I find yoga in wonderful, messy, human places and it lifts me up, inspiring me to keep looking at my life and shed light on the dusty, dark places in my own world.

(The images are from a sheet Elaine passed around at one of our last workshop sessions. It was used to rate your spaces. She has lots of tools!)

Practising Non-Attachment as a Parent

I remember learning about attachment before I became a parent. I didn't quite get it. I was young. I thought Buddha maybe just had a bad attitude and if he could shift his perspective, he'd see that suffering really was optional. Oh dear.

Then I became a mother. Now I know what attachment is. And let me tell you, not all attachment is bad. In fact, I used to say that if I wasn't attached to my daughter, I'm not sure how I would have kept taking care of her. So it serves a purpose...

So there I was, a practising non-attacher, having a kid, wanting her to be great, but not because I was forcing or pushing her, but because she was just turning out that way, through you know, her nature.

While she was little, we enrolled her in Suzuki violin. One of our yoga students was a Suzuki teacher and it made a lot of sense. I figured I'd be fighting, I mean interacting, with my daughter about something like dance or gymnastics classes, so it might as well be playing the violin. At least parents are involved and there's good communication and it's a pretty wholesome activity.

So my daughter was a "musician." She had an instrument and we had a purpose. We invested in lessons and music camp and pretty note drop earrings. We sat through hours of lessons and many more hours of practising at home in addition to arguing about practising and getting ready to go and spending time in traffic getting to, violin lessons. We did this for years.

I didn't realize how attached I'd become to being a parent of a little musician until one day she stopped playing. "What do you mean you're not going to play the violin anymore? We've spent thousands of dollars on this activity. What will you do instead? Don't you know that kids who are in the orchestra don't wind up in trouble at school?"

I kept the paraphernalia in a drawer and on shelves. The music books. Music stand. Extra shoulder and chin rests. Resin. Little things. And sort of let go of my attachment to my daughter being a musician. She dabbled in the bass and that was cool but she didn't really get back into it. Oh well. She used to be a musician. Now she just sits on the couch and plays on the computer. Oh well. She was probably too structured in the past. Oh well.

Years pass. She picks up modelling. The fashion kind. That freaked me out and I watched my attachment to her not being a model show up. "Just let it go. Pay for the photos. It's an activity. It's good she's doing something. Her hair looks really nice now and her make up sure is pretty. Allow her to be herself..."

Then I get the strangest text out of the blue last month. "Should I start doing violin again" was what it said. "Ok" was the reply and "it'll give me something to do after school." Wow. I contacted her most recent old teacher (not my yoga student) who said he had room and after a bumpy start, we're back at it. Saw her old teacher for the first time in years and it was like no time had passed. She even picked up sort of where she'd left off. His handwriting was still in the books and he could see where she'd ended a few years ago. This time it's so different though. She practises with her own initiation. She suggests it and asks me to be there but if I'm not, she still plays. Her sound is great and it's really nice to hear live music in the house again.

It's not finished but I'm just enjoying the bobbing of the waves. Up and down. Life. Parenting. It's wonderful.

My Dad's Stuff

My dad died quite in the middle of doing things. He was not planning on going.

I've realized that it's in death that we drop our masks. What we've been hiding remains, unless we've been cleaning up all along. When we match our inner worlds with our outer worlds, there won't be so many messes when we're gone. My dad was a great guy but he kept things that didn't need keeping.

This past weekend in the Yoga Teacher Training I was teaching a bit about Saucha, or purity, and I was reminded of an event that had happened exactly a year ago...

We had heard that things had turned in my dad's health - he had cancer - and we should come right away. I spoke to him and told him I was on the way. I'd be there in two days. My father died while my sister and I were en route to visit him. So we got to Texas and our trip was different than we had been planning. Instead of a visit with him we were left with his stuff and dealing with what you have to deal with when someone close to you dies.

One of the days while we were down there was a holiday, so most things were closed and we didn't really have much to do so we thought we'd go open his storage locker we were told he had. My dad used to wear a fanny-pack and his keys were all attached to that. All of his keys. His friend told us he knew were the storage locker was and could take us there.

We drove out to the edge of town where he thought the storage place was, and sure enough, there was the slightly hidden driveway. When we got to the entrance, our father's friend left us. He only knew which place the storage locker was at because he drove my dad there every once in a while to drop off his checks to pay for it. He had no idea which locker it was. "Which way did he walk when he went to the locker?" we asked him. He didn't go to the locker - he just went to the office and dropped off the check.

We called the number on the closed office door to see if someone could let us know which locker of the hundreds on the site were our father's. They couldn't help us for one thing because they don't give out that kind of information to just anyone and second thing, the computer was in the office, not where we were calling.

We didn't have much else to do and it was just my sister and me with our little rental car and a whack of keys so we decided we'd hunt for it. "Do you think he'd have a big one or a little one?" "Which kind of lock do you think he used?" No clue. So we proceeded to go to each locker and try each key. Maybe this wasn't even the right place. Maybe he didn't have a locker or it was inside. Who knows.

As we went up and down the gravel roads of lockers trying each rusty lock a few times with different keys we started to imagine what could be so important that he'd have a locker even though he had a home with plenty of space. Maybe this would be our inheritance. Maybe he's got something really interesting to leave us. Maybe he'd been secretly stashing collections that would have value. Maybe it's full of good things we can sell or use.

Finally, at practically the last locker, at the last corner we turned, my sister yelled out that she'd found it. This is the one. We took a big breath. This was it. My dad's treasures. His secrets for us.

So you can already imagine or scroll down and see the pictures of what we found. A big bag of nothing. Old computer parts. Old ones. Dusty photo albums that were damaged from water and rodent excrement. A bar stool. Broken fishing rods that hadn't been used in years. That was my dad. It couldn't have been any other way, of course. It had to be that way. That's just how we was and we loved him.

But really? Come on, Dad. You spent money you didn't have every month to keep this pile you couldn't confront and sort through. Maybe if we had visited Texas a year earlier we could have helped clean it out when he could tell us what was special about each thing. But we didn't do that.

So I came home to my mom and family here saying please clean out your stuff now - tell us what's important so we can know why you kept what you did. Where are the keys to the motorcycle and the house and where is the important stuff? Do you have insurance? Where are the papers we need? I want to make sure I leave a trail so my loved ones can know what I meant and was up to.

In the end of course it doesn't matter. Clean up or don't. But if you clean up while you can, you may get to experience the satisfaction that comes when you align yourself, the energy that's freed up when you know where things go. When you know what you have and you don't keep more than you can handle.

After the trip out to Texas to attend my father's funeral and handle some of his affairs, I came home with a strong message for everyone in my family - Please Clean Up Your Stuff So We Don't Have To Do It When You're Dead. It's a drag.

It's been a year exactly since we were down there saying goodbye to my dad. Since that time I notice him all over the place. In the newspaper Sudoko puzzles, in the spider plant like he used to keep in all his houses, in my memories of crazy experiences like the ones I just shared here. He's not gone, he's been converted, but shit, it would have been nice not to have had to clean up his big mess.

Tomorrow's the Day

It's been quite a roller coaster. At the time of me writing this, I'm feeling really quite fine, not even nervous. Earlier today I was super-sad, feeling a sense of loss about having a hysterectomy and thinking maybe I'd change my mind. "Wait! I want to have another baby!" "What do you mean I'll never nurse another baby?" and things like that. I sobbed. It really isn't too late. I could change my mind. But I'm not going to. As much as I love kids and I think I'm a great mom, I LOVE being a mom, I'm not going to do it again.

So then I'd think about the "freedom" I'll have when I'm not all bleeding and tired and awkward and that would make me feel a bit better but then I went to, "what if something goes wrong?" "What if they sew my vagina too short and I'll never be able to enjoy sex again?" "What if my libido never returns like those other women said?" And that freaked me out so I took a half an Ativan. That made all of those thoughts disappear.

I decided to stay busy and moved all of my later-in-the-week clients to today and that worked out well. As I led my yoga classes this afternoon, I breathed into myself as I always do and this time the breathing felt the same as it always did except that there was this feeling of new conditions. Last day of the uterus. Last day before going on a big trip of surgery including a night in the hospital. I got home and my daughter said the hospital called and I am expected at 10:45 in the morning. Great! I'll skip the traffic and freezing rain warnings and even be able to sleep in if I can.

Yesterday as I was in Yoga Teacher Training I almost blurted out - "today's the second last day of me having my uterus!" But of course, I didn't say that. I woke up this morning thinking, "today's the last day with my uterus - what should I do?"

That reminded me that I'd like to see it. I haven't asked yet if they'll let me look at it because I figure the answer will be a creepy no. But tomorrow I'll ask and maybe they'll let me look at it. My uterus. My womb. My daughter's home. I kept my daughter's placenta for ages in the freezer so I wouldn't put it past me to at least take a good look at this other organ. But hospitals aren't designed for that. Viewing of the tissues. I'm going to see what they say...

One other thing. Today's the last day of my uterus but you know what? It's also the last day of having fibroids. Yay!

Attachment, refined

So in the conversation around attachment, it's bound to come up that we don't always know where we're attached. Yesterday's tidbit was to notice where you're attached and that's actually a way to let go of attachment, or the problems associated with attachment. And so the question is, "how do I know where I'm attached?"

A good way to notice where you're attached is to look at where you're unhappy. If you're not sure about that, consider what you complain about. What do you go on and on about or chronically complain about? If you're not sure, ask your friends or people you have spent time with. That complaint will be a site of attachment.

Then you notice you're attached there. That attachment is blocking your happiness. Knowing the attachment is there sometimes is enough to cause some space. "Wow, I just noticed I'm unhappy because I'm tired. I'm attached to being energetic. Good to know. I can drop this one right now and just be tired and do what I have to do and get more sleep later."

Other times knowing you're attached at that spot doesn't make a difference and the attachment stays there. "OMG. My relationships have sucked. I'm blah blah blah. He was blah blah blah. Will I ever blah blah blah? Will it ever go away?" Or maybe your friends are attached, "my business blah blah blah; my partner blah blah blah; my job blah blah blah; my health; my back; my money; blahdeeblahblah."

On the one hand, that's life. Too bad, that's where you're attached, relax, get over it, be attached, don't worry about it. On the other hand you may want to dig a little deeper if that attachment is the source of a lot of pain. It depends on what you're going for, what you're willing to do, what you want in the moment. And knowing that, is going to take some familiarity with yourself in places already examined in the previous Yamas (see side bar for quick references or come to Living your Yoga or the Yoga Teacher Training with me and Kat - we love dealing with this stuff).

Remember that areas where we go into pain and reaction are unconscious places. Finding those places while we're unconscious will be difficult. Our thoughts will wander, we'll get sleepy, we won't want to look anymore, we'll get distracted. It's normal. So keep going to the places you feel and breathe into them. Same thing. It keeps coming back to the same thing. Being present with what is. Read the beginning again for the instructions in finding out where you're attached, which will lead to this being present everybody's talking about.

Eventually, after you've done it for a while, breathing into the sensations, locating your attachments, you will be so bored with the process. The sensations will be familiar and you won't even want to go there anymore. Something else happens at that point but going straight to it won't work. Going through the attachment at its site, source, physical location, is important. Then you can use it as a jumping off place, but only once you've gotten to know it and what you do with yourself in that place a bit first.

Attachment, reviewed

Over the years on this blog, I've written a bit about attachment. And again, it's that time in the yoga teacher training where we've hit Aparigraha. And again, I want to read the class some passages from Anthony De Mello's book, Way to Love.

The way to really practise non-attachment is to notice where we're attached. That's sort of the only way. Just notice where we're attached. In yoga practise it's like breathing into the places we feel. In meditation it's like leaning into the sharp points. In Landmark Education language it's like being authentic about where we're inauthentic. And that's how to become non-attached. It's how to allow. It's how to be present. Go to the things you feel and let them be there. There's nothing to do afterwards. Things will either fall away or they'll still be there. You won't have to do anything.

Non-attachment is such a goal and people sometimes don't like to admit where they're attached. Your friends and family know what you're attached to. It's not something you can hide. And it's often annoying, especially if we're attached to people being a certain way for us. We might think the amount we're attached to someone is a gauge of how much we love them, but that's not it. It doesn't feel good to be loved when there's so much attachment around it. Going the other way, it isn't relaxing to love someone with lots of attachment.

The reason we practise the yama of non-attachment isn't because it's the right thing to do. It's because it frees us up energetically. To stay attached takes energy and drains us. Practising all of the yamas and niyamas is to let things go, open the energy channels, increase our health, things like that. That's what the yoga's for. It's not to burden ourselves with rules and things we should do. It's about freedom, union, balance, and what that takes is looking at where we're not free, where we're out of balance, and not making ourselves wrong or feeling rotten about that, but using those as cues to move us in the direction we want to go.

More on Non-Attachment

I think that attachment gets a bad rap. Sometimes attachment is a good thing. Consider parenting, for instance. If we didn't get attached to our kids, we wouldn't take care of them. In fact, improper attachment at birth can make growing up really difficult. So attachment itself isn't necessarily the problem.

In healthy relationships, some kind of attachment helps to form a seal so a container is made that hold things. Like life. Experiences, feelings, businesses, families, poetry, all kinds of things. The attachment itself can be like glue and is useful. The hard part comes when the attachment is broken. How do we respond when we don't have the thing we're attached to? Or does fear of loss come up just from being attached to something?

To walk around in complete detachment isn't really human or very realistic. It's also one of the symptoms of being a sociopath. It comes in handy to be able to detach when it's time to let go for sure, but to be afraid to get in there and feel and love and connect just because we're anticipating the one day when it's all over and how rotten that will feel, is sort of sad. Knowing how to detach effectively sounds to me like the skill to master. Be attached when appropriate, and be unattached when appropriate. To generalize and say all attachment is bad and everything in life is the same as every other thing isn't allowing for variety, our preferences, our particular voice to be heard or raised.

To distinguish this, sometimes we consider the difference between commitment and attachment. Being committed gives us direction and purpose and freedom for the thing we're committed to to happen or not happen. Being attached implies there will be some clinging if the thing doesn't happen and that there will be some pain involved if the thing doesn't happen. Commitment implies being present whereas attachment implies being stuck in our ways, which is not being present. And on the other hand, some people have a lot of trouble with the word commitment, as they get it mixed up with attachment. Keeping them separate is helpful at understanding how to be FOR something without being ATTACHED to it. Get it?

One of the ways to find out if you're committed to something or attached to something is to reflect on how it would feel if that thing were not around anymore. That cup of coffee. That person. The job. What if your car were stolen (Gasp. Bun-bun!), or you lost your stuff in a fire, or you simply left your lunch bag on the bus (true story, you know who you are!). The earthquake in Haiti can show us how we're all attached to the stuff we have - all we have to do is imagine trading places, but we're also committed that people get clean water and have medical care and are reunited with their families. When we're committed we can keep going in the face of failure because we don't have to stop and process our disappointment. We keep going.

Non-Attachment

We're at that point in the yoga teacher training program again. The weekend where we talk about non-attachment and then come up with a practice for it. Some people plan purging rooms and boxes of files. Others plan to stop drinking coffee. Some people just can't seem to come up with an area they think they're attached.

We always recommend doing something that shakes up your routine a bit and totally within moderation. Just notice where you're attached. It doesn't mean you have to be totally unattached. Just notice that you're attached! Like the coffee thing - you could give up coffee altogether or how about just on Mondays? Thursdays? How about don't have it one day a week until noon? Just something to show you where you're tied.

And Caroline Myss mentioned in the tapes I'm listening to again, Energy Anatomy, that when we talk about being honest, we often are willing to point out where our flaws are but not our strengths. And with that, she says we need to be responsible for using our strengths, for knowing what they are and putting them to use. But back to non-attachment, she reminds us to unplug from the things that are draining us and remove importance and significance from old memories and ideas and let them go by calling our spirits back to Now.

Landmark Education says that life is empty and meaningless and it's empty and meaningless that it's empty and meaningless. All of that importance is stuff we put in there. So to practice non-attachment is to become aware of the games we're playing and knowing where we're hooked. Pema Chodron would say we're hooked in places and when we're hooked, there's suffering.

There's always an opportunity to notice where we're attached and see if it's possible to give it up. Sometimes we can't. That's okay. Knowing we're not letting go is closer than not even knowing we're attached. As Anthony deMello puts it, you can't become unattached until you've really experienced attachment. I didn't read the group the passage from the book, Way to Love, that I often do. It's a good reminder that finding yourself totally attached is a great place to be because it's not likely that you'll let go of something if you don't even know you're holding on and it's holding you back.

Stepping to the Right of the Left Side

Without going into too many wah-wah details of why I feel like I'm in a difficult position at the moment, just know I have been feeling a bit put on by the universe (so victim-like of me) and I even had my Facebook status read this morning, "Jamine has been enrolled in a mandatory training program in non-attachment," or something like that. I'm having to practise non-attachment in an area of my life that's important to me. Practising non-attachment in areas that are not important to me is easy - it's the areas that matter to me that make it challenging.

And because I've been enrolled by the universe in this training program, I'm currently interested in methods of letting go. I remember the "trying to let go" of a pen exercise in the Landmark Forum. To get it, pick up a pen and try to let it go. The only way to let it go is to just let go of it. Duh. Not so easy though in other areas. So I'm trying to let go. It's embarrassing, to be honest. Watch yourself try to let go of a pen and you'll get the idea. It's awkward and silly. It's much more graceful to just let go. However, that's not how I'm doing it at the moment.

This morning during my meditation I got some insight into another method that may already be obvious to many of you and again, forgive me if I'm slow in places you'd expect a yoga teacher to have mastery in. So yesterday I was at the TEDxOttawa talks, which are basically mainly live presentations a la TED. They are "ideas worth spreading." One of the non-live presentations was a repeat of something I'd seen more than once before, and that's Jill Bolte Taylor's story of watching herself have a stroke. I'll post the video here so you can see the whole thing, but one piece of her message is that the left side of the brain handles worry and memories and the right side of the brain puts us in the moment. There's loads more, so watch the video.

The part that got me really interested this morning was the idea of stepping to the right of the left side of the brain. Just step out of the left and into the right. So I tried that. And this morning, for me, at this time, it worked. I don't know how it will go later. Things just let go automatically. And it's not even that they let go, there was no action or anything really.

So for me, the new distinction is rather than letting something go, just move into a new space and different things will occur as important. I'm still working on it. But I thought I'd share it as it is :)

Practising Non-Attachment

One of the things that has stood out for me that Anthony De Mello said is that you can't really practise non-attachment until you've experienced attachment. It's easy to practise being non-attached to something you're not really attached to in the first place. It becomes much more of a practice if you let go or begin to let go of something that's actually quite dear to you without knowing if you'll get to have or see it again or not.

In the case of a death, you know that you won't get to have it again and in some ways that makes it easier. It's so final. In the case of something else, it can be difficult because you don't know if you'll have it again. So letting go in the face of uncertainty becomes that much more challenging. It could be letting go of a habit, like drinking coffee, or something small. Or it could be bigger, like letting go of a child who's going to go off and experience the world. It could be even bigger and more attachment-like if it's someone you don't want to let go but they're going anyhow, like a good friend or lover you don't want to say good-bye to.

I'm currently in the middle of practising some serious non-attachment. I'm trying to keep my arms by my sides while my whole being is screaming to grab on and hold tight.