Torching the Bridge

Are we programmed to hang on when we should be letting go?

[Tweet “Whatever life takes away from you, let it go. Miguel Ruiz”]

I was on Goodreads, scanning for some quotes to use in two upcoming funerals and clicked that I liked this one by Miguel Ruiz. I had just copied a quote by Kate Morton into the draft of one of the services – a quote that noted we make our lives out of what we have, not what we’re missing – so I fell into the rhythm of Ruiz’ statement fairly easily.

They both must be right. When we lose someone or something, spending our days chasing after whatever that was, leaning into a dream that can no longer be realized, putting energy into relationships, work, or hopes that have been torched, seems a ludicrous waste of the transient few moments we have on this earth. Right?

I, like most of you, have burned bridges and turned my back on those who were trying to cross them. Or have realized, like most of you, halfway across the bridge I’d built myself, that what lay on the other side wasn’t what I’d expected and, rather than risk the futile belief that I can change whatever that terrain might be, I’ve struck the match and retreated. And I, like most of you, have also raged against a bridge that someone else or some circumstance beyond my control has set ablaze, throwing myself, sometimes humiliatingly often, into the fiery hope that I can salvage whatever that was and come away only burned and bleeding.

But there is this intuitive refusal to believe that all is over when it’s over even when we REALLY know that. We have this urgent need to make things work, to try to overcome obstacles, to engage, engage, engage.

I have been listening to Malcolm Gladwell’s David and Goliath. His segment on overcoming the challenge of dyslexia and the tenacity that comes of that process was gripping. I don’t have dislexia. Not even close. And I have incredible compassion for those who do. But the recognition I felt was too big to be ignored. Those who struggle with the neurological cross- or mis-firing of dyslexia often develop other skills and behaviours that actually improve their ability to cope in situations that need those skills and behaviours. So a dyslexic who learns how to argue their point orally as a way of overcoming the losses associated with dyslexia may become an incredible litigator because they can think on their feet and have honed those skills. Their affliction, in efffect, requires them to build adaptive strengths.

Is the compulsion to overcome barriers, fears, and the-evidence-right-in-front-of-us not only the adaptive behaviour of someone who is unable to engage according to the rules, someone who learns other ways to beat the odds that are stacked against them, but perhaps also a primal urge we all share? It certainly feels like it sometimes. A lot of times, actually.

Ruiz’s quote, upon a re-read, seems counter-intuitive. We hang on. Sometimes that is the right thing to do; we know that. But we have normalized that hanging on to the point that sometimes, we forget to let go. We lose sight of what is really going on, what is good for us, what is right for us because we’re so programmed to hang on.

Let it go. Get on with your real life. Merge Morton and Ruiz: [Tweet “We either make our lives out of what we have, or what we don’t have makes our lives.”]