Loving, Letting Go, Reclamation

A little reflection with my tea kept me company this morning. I was thinking and feeling about what I’ve let go of in this life, and what I’ve reclaimed:

If I knew I was going to die tomorrow, and was given a choice of last meals, I would ask for a toasted onion bagel from the Carnegie Deli in New York City. I’d want a large mug of strong French roast coffee, with a dollop of real cream, to go with it. But, I let go of those things decades back. The coffee was the first to go. Too acidic for me. My hips hurt when I drank it, and they didn’t hurt when I stopped drinking it, so I gave it up.

In the first few years I’d go long periods of time with no coffee at all, then experiment with a cup only to find that my hips ached and burned. Coffee caused me too much pain to keep lying to myself, so I finally let it go once and for all. But damn, if I don’t still miss the ritual of preparing the brew in a French press coffee maker. Missed the smell of it brewing. The first pour, hot and steaming. The cream floating like clouds dissolving into a rich beige color, inviting my mouth to the mug. Oh God, the first gulp, the rush of adrenaline, the waking up of my brain, the clarity of the day.

The cream and the bagels came a little bit later. Wheat was not my friend, like the coffee, it made my hips ache, and tightened the muscles in my neck. The whole gluten free thing had not become a trend when I gave up wheat some forty years ago. The cream wasn’t as big a deal. I didn’t drink milk anyway, but cheese – cheese was hard to let go of. And the perfectly toasted bagel, buttered or slathered in cream cheese was real loss.

It’s a metaphor to give up those things that cause you pain – not just coffee, as in my case, but relationships that don’t support who you are and who you’re becoming. Work that is meaningless. Loyalty to something or someone that are more habit than pleasure. There are certain things I never should have let go of. I too often let go in trying to become who I thought I should be instead of who I was. For a time, I mistook my wild side for irresponsibility and recklessness, cutting my hair short and dressing in suits to go to an office. I missed my wild side the most, the impulsive and serendipitous side that loved poetry and wanted to dance barefoot late into the night.

Anything that is part of a dream can be reclaimed and revived. When I met my husband, he let me know that he loved my independent streak. He encouraged my wild spirit and didn’t feel my strong opinions diminished who he was. We danced barefoot to old Motown until we collapsed laughing and sweating. He became my life partner whose love took the form of support and encouragement to be my truest self.

I grew my hair long again. I watched films late into the night and discussed them with my new best friend. I began writing in earnest, every day. I learned the dreams we carry never really leave us. I’ve given up things in life that I didn’t want to let go. I’ve given up things that caused me pain. But, it’s never too late, I tell myself, to reclaim what is truly important. I reclaimed the wild barefoot dancer in me, the writer and the poet. That’s the happy ending in the midst of an ongoing story.

But oh what I wouldn’t give for a toasted onion bagel from the Carnegie Deli!

What have you given up that served you? And what have you reclaimed that added to your wholeness? Let’s have a conversation.