In October, I spent some time in California thinking a lot about the self-destructive things I was doing. Nothing dramatic like binge drinking or driving without a seatbelt. More subtle things like keeping people in my life out of fear of dying alone and unmourned. The burden of keeping some people in my life felt heavy, and it started to feel cruel to keep myself available and open to them.
On my last day in California, the necklace broke as I was putting it on. I was taking a class where we were instructed to think about some kind of ritual to mark our final day. I hadn't done that yet. But then, with the strands of the broken necklace wrapped around my fingers, I knew I had a ritual to perform. On one of our breaks, I walked to a quiet grove built around a prayer tree. People had come and tied hundreds of prayers, hopes and desperate wishes to its branches. I read a few of them, struck by how similar they all were -- they could be distilled down to the same few phrases:
Person, love me.
Person, accept my love.
World, be gentle with me.
I found a high branch, as yet unadorned with little prayer papers. I wrapped the broken necklace around the branch. Goodbye to these forced beginnings. Goodbye to cruel continuings. Time to let some things end.
With the tenderest of regard for my own survival, I let it go.
