thank u

I am thinking about the lyrics to one of my favorite songs by Alanis Morrisette. I am fortunate to be able to listen to music while I work (and I get to choose what that music is, so the Alanis Favorites Playlist it was last night). Here they are:

How about getting off of these antibiotics
How about stopping eating when I'm filled up
How about them transparent dangling carrots
How about that ever elusive kudo

Thank you India
Thank you terror
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you frailty
Thank you consequence
Thank you thank you silence

How about me not blaming you for everything
How about me enjoying the moment for once
How about how good it feels to finally forgive you
How about grieving it all one at a time

Thank you India
Thank you terror
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you frailty
Thank you consequence
Thank you thank you silence

The moment I let go of it was
The moment I got more than I could handle
The moment I jumped off of it was
The moment I touched down

How about no longer being masochistic
How about remembering your divinity
How about unabashedly bawling your eyes out
How about not equating death with stopping

Thank you India
Thank you providence
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you nothingness
Thank you clarity

Thank you thank you silence

The line that stands out the most to me right now is, "The moment I let go of it, was the moment I got more than I could handle" mostly because that is how I'm feeling right now, reflecting on my New Year's Intention to Let Go and seeing the path I've traveled since I made that my intention and how I never meant it to lead me here. But that's the point, isn't it? In letting go, I was opening myself up to where the path would lead, all the while attempting to keep my eyes on my truth (although sometimes losing sight of what that was).

There has been much grieving this year, and there continues to be moments. Letting go and allowing things to be, while acknowledging one's truth creates considerable loss. Perceived loss, really, because ultimately, it was an illusion that I had nearly as much control over things as I thought I did. It's more like moving from illusion into realness, and the contrast is so stark as to leave one turning to go back, but then seeing that it's not possible - it's the red pill and there's no going back, the door is closed, the bell cannot be unrung.

"Thank you, disillusionment."