A balanced spiritual life requires learning to let go
October 17, 2024 at 11:15 a.m.
Like many adult children who have lost their parents, I have a tendency to talk to my mom and dad when I have something on my mind. When it’s something to do with writing, I check in with my dad, especially when a column deadline is looming and I’m struggling with an idea.
“So, what do you think about the topic of keeping your balance? You think that’s important, right?” I recently asked him. Suddenly, a framed collage of photos began to slip from its precarious perch on a much too thin nail, and head for the floor. I was able stop the momentum with an outstretched cane and grab it before it crashed to the ground.
“Seriously?” I complained to my dad. “A simple yes would have been sufficient.”
It may have just been his enthusiasm for the topic because he was someone who consistently preached “all things in moderation,” which for him meant “keep everything balanced.” I guess I just didn’t realize how many “things” there were that needed to be kept in balance, which, I discovered is not the same as having so many things to balance, like the circus juggler or plate spinner.
When I was raising my family there was barely time to think about balancing anything. There was just a continual momentum of trying to meet responsibilities. But as the nest began to empty, I became aware of a lopsidedness in my spiritual life, which had for so long taken a backseat to my role as a parent, especially when I became a parent who also worked outside the home.
At some point, probably through a fatherly nudge, I found myself recalling the things my father taught me as a child to help me know myself and center myself when I felt lost or disconnected or overwhelmed – to sit in silence and listen, to the sounds of life or the whisperings of God; to control my breathing and meditate on the breath of life with which God created us, and which keeps us alive; to create something, whether it be growing flowers in my garden, drawing and painting, writing poetry, playing the piano or baking his favorite apple pie.
I realized these were all things, among others, I had let slip away off the thin nail of my unbalanced life, and almost lost them, and me.
I regained an understanding that being balanced was not just a matter of not being overly busy, but learning to let go of all the emotional and spiritual baggage I had hoarded over the years, weighing down one side of my life’s seesaw – the fears, the failures, the perfectionism, the hurts and grudges and inability to forgive, grief and losses, which at times kept me feeling like I was mired in cement.
Letting go is hard, so much harder than holding on.
But over the many years of my life, I’ve learned that you can’t hold on to God when your hands are filled with everything else.
Mary Morrell is editor-in-chief of The Catholic Spirit, the Metuchen Diocesan newspaper.
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Like many adult children who have lost their parents, I have a tendency to talk to my mom and dad when I have something on my mind. When it’s something to do with writing, I check in with my dad, especially when a column deadline is looming and I’m struggling with an idea.
“So, what do you think about the topic of keeping your balance? You think that’s important, right?” I recently asked him. Suddenly, a framed collage of photos began to slip from its precarious perch on a much too thin nail, and head for the floor. I was able stop the momentum with an outstretched cane and grab it before it crashed to the ground.
“Seriously?” I complained to my dad. “A simple yes would have been sufficient.”
It may have just been his enthusiasm for the topic because he was someone who consistently preached “all things in moderation,” which for him meant “keep everything balanced.” I guess I just didn’t realize how many “things” there were that needed to be kept in balance, which, I discovered is not the same as having so many things to balance, like the circus juggler or plate spinner.
When I was raising my family there was barely time to think about balancing anything. There was just a continual momentum of trying to meet responsibilities. But as the nest began to empty, I became aware of a lopsidedness in my spiritual life, which had for so long taken a backseat to my role as a parent, especially when I became a parent who also worked outside the home.
At some point, probably through a fatherly nudge, I found myself recalling the things my father taught me as a child to help me know myself and center myself when I felt lost or disconnected or overwhelmed – to sit in silence and listen, to the sounds of life or the whisperings of God; to control my breathing and meditate on the breath of life with which God created us, and which keeps us alive; to create something, whether it be growing flowers in my garden, drawing and painting, writing poetry, playing the piano or baking his favorite apple pie.
I realized these were all things, among others, I had let slip away off the thin nail of my unbalanced life, and almost lost them, and me.
I regained an understanding that being balanced was not just a matter of not being overly busy, but learning to let go of all the emotional and spiritual baggage I had hoarded over the years, weighing down one side of my life’s seesaw – the fears, the failures, the perfectionism, the hurts and grudges and inability to forgive, grief and losses, which at times kept me feeling like I was mired in cement.
Letting go is hard, so much harder than holding on.
But over the many years of my life, I’ve learned that you can’t hold on to God when your hands are filled with everything else.
Mary Morrell is editor-in-chief of The Catholic Spirit, the Metuchen Diocesan newspaper.