“Letting Go: The art of living at peace with oneself and the world”

Mar 24, 2019

By Rev. Rebecca Bryan
Last week I mentioned that I spent much of my earlier career as a fundraiser, the last eight years of it as a consultant to nonprofits which were undergoing big change. Often this change started as a capital campaign, yet organizations quickly realized that it was about much more than money. A dream to expand their programs or refurbish a building – a good solid, mission-based project – became not only a massive fundraising effort but also a major change in organizational culture. 

When I met with prospective clients for the first time, the conversation always started the same way. I would ask them to tell me about their dreams, what they were trying to accomplish and why. They would talk about their vision of a larger, more modern library, or a safer, more welcoming home for victims of domestic violence. We would enjoy the excitement of what they were imagining, and the conversation would then quickly move to the question of how they were going to raise the money necessary to achieve their dreams. 

Their first question to me was always; “Can you raise this money for us?” My answer was always, “No, I can’t, but I can partner with you in helping you to raise the money.” 

Some conversations ended right there. Folks wanted someone to do the fund raising for them. That was okay. But it was not not my approach. Even if I could raise the money for them, where would it leave them? It would leave them dependent on me, and that was never the goal. 

For those who accepted the partnership concept, we moved to the next question, which was the key to whether we would be a good fit for each other. It went something like this, “We understand that you can’t raise the money for us. We like the idea of your teaching us and partnering with us. What is your plan for doing this? Can you write out an exact strategic plan including a time line, monthly goals and deliverables? We want to know by next week how much will be raised and how many meetings it will take to do so.” 

My answer, delivered in terms that were familiar to them, was really all about trust. I did not make promises or offer precise projections. I talked about my experience, what it takes for an organization to do this sort of thing, the importance of building genuine relationships, how the organization was going to change, and the reality that we would need to spend time on that. 

For those that accepted my answer, we did together amazing, life-changing, organizationally transformative work. Not only did we build new libraries and safe homes for women and children, we transformed lives, our own as well as those of the people we brought in to the work with us. 

Four things were key to the success of a project: genuine relationships, mutual respect, trust, and care for each other and the work we were doing (the mission). The same is true for life. 

To have a successful life, by which I mean a life of meaning, we need genuine relationships built on mutual respect. We need to trust each other, ourselves, and life; and we need to belong to and be a part of things we care about.

Again, the four keys are genuine relationships, mutual respect, caring about what we are doing with our days, and trust, the one that I want to focus on today.

We spend a lot of time here at the FRS discussing the importance of community and belonging in our lives. As Unitarian Universalists, we also focus closely on the importance of treating all people with respect and of discovering what is meaningful to us and then living our lives surrounded by the influence of that discovery. We talk less about the importance of trust.

The Oxford dictionary definition of trust includes, “the firm belief in the reliability, truth, or ability of someone or something.” To that definition Merriam-Webster adds “confident hope.” 

We need to trust and have places and people we trust, so that we can relax, rely on other people, and stop believing the lie that we can get through life alone or by the sheer force of our own efforts. 

There comes a time when we have to give up the illusion that we can force our way assertively through life. There comes a time when holding on to grudges and past pain no longer serves us. There comes a time when we have to let go. Letting go is a constant companion for most people in the second half of life; many, if they are lucky, learn it earlier. Trust me when I say that learning to let go will bring you what you seek, though much of what we are taught says otherwise. 

Before I go on, I must be clear. When I speak of letting go, or surrendering, I am not advocating that we stay in unfavorable or unsafe situations. The kind of letting go that I am exploring is the antithesis of resignation or giving up. Rather it is an internal shift or state of being that holds the reality of our limitations with the strength of our convictions. 

Letting go will not undermine or disempower us; on the contrary, letting go, as I am using the term this morning, will liberate us. It will release unrealistic expectations of ourselves and others. This kind of spiritual surrender will remove hubris and promote partnership. It will open us to the beautiful, irrefutable truths that we are not in control of the universe and that goodness does exist. 

You might be asking why I am preaching about trust and surrender or letting go during our annual fund raising. When I mentioned to some of the canvass saints (and they are saints) that I was preaching about letting go on this, my third and final sermon during the canvass, there were some surprised, if not confused, looks upon their faces. 

I chose this topic because we must always remember that this is a spiritual community. How we raise money is how we will be with one another, and how we are with one another here is how we will grow to be with one another beyond these walls. 

Yes, we need to be clear about our goals and ask for what we need to accomplish those goals. Yet how we achieve our goals is more important than if we achieve them. We need to foster genuine relationships, not strain or injure them, while we raise money. 

We also have to let go of trying to control every little thing, and trust—trust —that we will have what we need. It may or may not be exactly what we hoped for. Whatever it is, it is okay as long as we have stronger relationships based on mutual respect, shared ambitions, and increased trust. We make our plan, we do our part, and then we let go. We trust. We allow for mystery and beauty and for humor and surprise. 

We remember that in our Affirmation of Faith, we promise to one another that “Love is the doctrine of this church….” Please be sure to sign that Affirmation of Faith banner on your way out of church this morning, if you haven’t done so already. 

Trust is an essential part of being able to let go. We will not let go if we do not trust that there is something that will hold us. This something can (and ideally does) include people; however, trust is not limited to people. 

We can trust in nature. The sun will rise, the birds will greet us, and the tide will rock us. We can trust in music and other art to soothe us when we are upset and remind us of what matters when we are dismayed. We can trust in the rhythmic movement of our hands as we knit or garden, and we can trust in the rising and falling of our breath. 

In order to trust, we must drop the illusion that any person is perfect or will never make a mistake.  Inherently we know when we can trust people. There is an attraction about them. They are what I would call “virtuous” or “excellent,” terms that have everything to do with their character and little do with their airs. 

The world is full of hurt, hurting and hurtful people. Two thousand years ago, Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius wrote of this truth in his Meditations, “First thing every morning tell yourself: today I am going to meet a busybody, an ingrate, a bully, a liar, a schemer and a boor. Ignorance of good and evil has made them what they are…”. 

Familiarity is the breeding ground for trust, while openness, or space, makes trust possible. Think of familiar songs or readings. Many of us get comfort from old hymns, the 23rd psalm, Velveeta macaroni and cheese or some other home cooked meal, because they are familiar, comfortable and comforting. 

My heart goes out to those who were not given the gift of trust as a young child. It is one of the deepest of wrong doings and is surely one of the most obvious proofs that the assumptions of meritocracy are false. Yet even when trust was not instilled in us as children, we can make room for trust and create routines that nurture it.

I recently learned something about myself which exemplifies the connection between trust and letting go. I learned that I love to untangle knots. 

I enjoy crocheting, although I am not very good at it. Before you start crocheting, you need to make a ball of yarn out of your skein of yarn. I usually do this. Most recently I did not. I was so eager to start my new blanket that I simply began to crochet. 

I was crocheting away for several weeks until one day the yarn was seemingly stuck. I opened the bag, and indeed it was! It wasn’t just stuck. It was an all-out mess. The knots were woven one into the other so intricately that it was a work of art.  

And so the unknotting began. I thought it might take a few hours to get through this tangled mess. Each time I worked on it, I was sure that this was the time the knot will be fully unraveled. It took me six weeks and too many hours to count to finish untangling the mess I had made. 

I learned that I love to untangle knots!  It is so soothing.  My body, mind and spirit would sink, or relax, into the chair as I began to hold the big knotted ball.  Breathing in, I hold my knotted ball of yarn; breathing out, I pull one piece through another. 

This was not a healing experience for everyone who happened to be around me when I was doing it. I could feel the anxiety of the person next to me rising. More than once someone said, “Cut it! Just cut it!” Midway through Bart decided that I would do well to sell big balls of knotted yarn. We wonder if it couldn’t be a good fundraiser for the church. 

I came to love that knotted ball, with its dirty spots and frayed yarn. They were evidence of the relationship we had with one another. I agree with what author Jean Toomer said, “We learn the rope of life by untying its knots.”

I began thinking of this as my “letting-go blanket.” And now it is my gift to us. It will be kept in the robing room. I invite you to come, hold the blanket, and remember that this is a place where you can let go, surrender and trust. This is a safe and brave space. This is a place where you can come to heal. 

May we hold this blanket for years to come, remembering that the power of the community is held in its fibers. May it comfort us and remind us of the healing power of letting go, and may it remind us that the FRS’s annual fundraising is all about genuine relationships, mutual respect, caring for one another, and trust. Above all, trust. 

Amen and Blessed Be. 

Questions to ponder, discuss and hold…

Can you name a blessing in your life that was not a result of your having worked harder?

What activities allow you to experience the gift of surrender?

Is there a situation in your life that might benefit from your letting go, even a bit?

 

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