“There comes the moment when you must let go and trust that you will be caught.”

That was one small part of the description a friend gave of her training for the trapeze. Doing the training fulfilled a bucket list item for her. She is not a circus performer. She’s a nurse.

trapezeIn her talk she provided a vivid description of the steps in the trapeze act; of timing her jump from the platform to correspond to the swinging of the one who will catch her, propelling herself on the swing on to increase the height of her swing, waiting for the precise moment when, at the apex of her swing, she lets go and extends her reach.

Being caught was a matter of being at the right spot at the right time, fully engaged in the moment, willing to release her own grip in order to be available to the waiting hands.

There are many big and little moments that require letting go:

  • “Your test result are back, and I’m afraid it’s not good news.”
  • “There’s been an accident…”
  • “Will you accept charges for a call from the country jail?”
  • “We appreciate your long service with us, but with the reorganization your services will no longer be needed.”

We could continue to grasp. The effort may feel necessary, but it is futile because the situation is not in our control.

Today is the Saturday before Easter. This is the day almost 2000 years ago that the followers of Jesus must have felt like the trapeze artist left in midair, completely unsure than anything would catch them.

Christians all over the world celebrated Good Friday yesterday, the day commemorating the day Jesus was executed. We celebrate knowing what comes on Sunday. The followers of Jesus had no such knowledge. For all they knew, life as they knew it had ended. They had trusted Jesus to catch them. They let go. Suddenly, no one was there.

This is life over and over. Things fall apart and we must let go. How?

I think this is the primary purpose of being still. Such mindfulness allows us to be in each moment as it comes rather than getting snared in the terror of the unknown ahead or the remorse of what is past. “Doing what you are doing” allows putting one foot in front of another, extended our hands as best we can until, maybe, perhaps, hopefully we are caught.