The Practice of Letting It Go

Let it go.

Pigeon pose.
One leg twisted beneath.
Spine parallel to the floor.
Forehead resting on yoga mat.
The scent of rubber.
The stretch of muscle.
The loosening of joint.

Let it go.

We’ve run out of washing tablets – must remember to add them to the list – the kids drama subs need to be paid for the new term – I wonder where the cheque book is – it might be in amongst that big pile of mail accumulating on the shelf – I really must look through that – there could be something important in that pile – like the cheque book – what am I going to make for dinner tonight – I can’t do pasta – we had pasta last night – maybe stirfry – maybe takeout – but it’s not Friday and Fridays are takeout day – how many days till Friday?

Let it go.

Downward dog.
Soles of feet almost flush to mat.
Palms of hands rest heavy
supporting the inverted “V”.
The strain of tendons.
The splay of fingers.
The sweat of effort.

Let it go.

I wish my arms were stronger – and my legs were longer – and slimmer – in fact, I wish I was bendier altogether – like those women you watch doing yoga on Elephant Journal – how do they get their bodies to move so fluidly – like water, almost – and yes, well, I’m not so much like water – more like a misshapen clod of earth – well, that wasn’t a very nice thing to think about myself – bloody inner critic – bet those yoginis from Elephant Journal don’t speak to themselves like that – great, so you’re going to criticise your inner critic now?

Let it go.

Corpse pose.
Back flat on the yoga mat.
Palms turned to face up.
Jaw relaxed and mouth slightly open.
The stillness of the body.
The silence of the mind.
The surrender of the moment.

Let it go.

When I first began my yoga practice, a few years ago now, my sankalpa, the intention I set at the start of every meeting with my mat, the quality of every pose I moved my body through, was “Let it go”.

As I folded my body into deep hip openers, forward bends, lower body twists and flowing transitions from cat to cow to cat again, “Let it go” became my mantra.

As the minutiae of my day pressed in on me, as my inner critic ran rampant, I would speak the words, “Let it go”, and keep moving through the routine poses of my practice.

And it wasn’t easy. If I’m being completely honest. Letting go isn’t easy for me. It’s not my natural state. I’m not convinced it’s anyone’s natural state. But what I would find at the end of my practice, as I chanted my closing Oms and pressed the palms of my hands together before uttering a heartfelt “Namaste”, was that I had let go. If only for a short while. Which is why the call to return to the mat the next day felt goddess-sent. And the next. And the next.

And then I stopped.

I can’t remember why now. I suspect I got sick and didn’t feel like it. And then once I felt better, I’d gotten out of the routine. But then didn’t return.

And yet, I still remember the siren song of surrender, the invitation played out through the body to “Let it go”.

So yes, here I find myself ready to let go again. Let go of the resistance. Let go of the mind chatter. Let go of the belief that I don’t have the time, don’t have the energy. To just let go and return to the mat.

And as I move from pigeon pose to downward dog to corpse pose, my practice will be to let it go let it go let it go.

This post is part of the Let it Go Project: a collection of stories leading up to a beautiful releasing ritual, hosted by Sas Petherick on the 30th of January. All the details for this free event are here. And you can take part! Be inspired by other posts in this project, and share what you are ready to let of of on the Let it Go Project Community Page!