My life began with loss.

It was literally the first thing I ever experienced.

Deeply encoded.

I can see the perfection that it’s a high level spiritual choice to come in this way if you want to practice the left hand path of loss and non-attachment, but the human part of us still has to experience it.

There has been a huge thread in my life that has asked me to let go.

For a long time, I just never let myself want anything.

I never wanted to be attached so I didn’t let anyone all the way in.

I would rather just cut and run.

It’s deep in there. Deep.

After a decade of incredible career success and acquiring everything I was told I wanted and I thought I want I was left miserable and unsatisfied.

The fear of loss that was stuck inside me had me having a lot but receiving none of it.

It was incredible how easy it was to let my whole life

go when I had my first big awakening.

My career, my house, my money, ultimately my boyfriend at the time.

It just washed over me.

I closed at the bottom and got lost down there for a while.

I got stuck in scarcity.

I forgot how to create and my standards became scrappy and small.

When I moved to Silicon Valley to do a startup, I had tax return money from my time in Hong Kong.

I rode a bicycle because I couldn’t afford a car.

I didn’t trust wanting.

Mostly I don’t trust wanting “things” in general and I don’t get very attached.

But when the house came in, I let myself want it.

I let myself want and have every detail.

I was so happy about this house.

And the mold asked me to let go of all of it.

I cannot tell you what it has taken me not to cut and run from this house.

To stay with it.

To heal it.

To go above and beyond to bring it back to health.

To not be afraid of it.

But to also be willing to let it go if it’s true.

I still don’t know what will happen.

I’m just surrendered to each step.

And it feels like an eternity.

In all of this, I have not cried about loss until today.

The next step to see if we can live there was to throw out anything left that is porous.

We had people help because the last time I tried to sort my clothes I got really sick.

There are the crafts and cards and books and papers that are so hard to part with.

Keeping the ones you can’t bare to part with until the next round of letting go.

But the one that really got me was this painting.

I saw this painting in the Grand Wailea in Maui in 2003 and I was mesmerized by it.

So much so that they called the artist and asked if ge would make a giclee because I couldn’t afford it. And he did.

I traveled all over the world with this painting as I moved and it was with me in many homes.

She mesmerized me for 20 years.

It feels like letting go of a huge chapter that she signifies.

All our attachments are the way we hold onto a past version of us.

A moment in time.

Something we don’t want to lose.

But the truth is, we lose it all.

Every. Single. Thing.

Every. Single. Person.

Every. Single. Moment.

We lose this moment every moment.

Grief can be soft.

Like tender ripples.

We don’t have to hold on while we grieve the loss.

We can let it softly slip away.

Practicing this has been a lifetime initiation for me.

And I don’t imagine it will ever end.

My life began with loss.

It was literally the first thing I ever experienced.

Deeply encoded.

I can see the perfection that it’s a high level spiritual choice to come in this way if you want to practice the left hand path of loss and non-attachment, but the human part of us still has to experience it.

There has been a huge thread in my life that has asked me to let go.

For a long time, I just never let myself want anything.

I never wanted to be attached so I didn’t let anyone all the way in.

I would rather just cut and run.

It’s deep in there. Deep.

After a decade of incredible career success and acquiring everything I was told I wanted and I thought I want I was left miserable and unsatisfied.

The fear of loss that was stuck inside me had me having a lot but receiving none of it.

It was incredible how easy it was to let my whole life

go when I had my first big awakening.

My career, my house, my money, ultimately my boyfriend at the time.

It just washed over me.

I closed at the bottom and got lost down there for a while.

I got stuck in scarcity.

I forgot how to create and my standards became scrappy and small.

When I moved to Silicon Valley to do a startup, I had tax return money from my time in Hong Kong.

I rode a bicycle because I couldn’t afford a car.

I didn’t trust wanting.

Mostly I don’t trust wanting “things” in general and I don’t get very attached.

But when the house came in, I let myself want it.

I let myself want and have every detail.

I was so happy about this house.

And the mold asked me to let go of all of it.

I cannot tell you what it has taken me not to cut and run from this house.

To stay with it.

To heal it.

To go above and beyond to bring it back to health.

To not be afraid of it.

But to also be willing to let it go if it’s true.

I still don’t know what will happen.

I’m just surrendered to each step.

And it feels like an eternity.

In all of this, I have not cried about loss until today.

The next step to see if we can live there was to throw out anything left that is porous.

We had people help because the last time I tried to sort my clothes I got really sick.

There are the crafts and cards and books and papers that are so hard to part with.

Keeping the ones you can’t bare to part with until the next round of letting go.

But the one that really got me was this painting.

I saw this painting in the Grand Wailea in Maui in 2003 and I was mesmerized by it.

So much so that they called the artist and asked if ge would make a giclee because I couldn’t afford it. And he did.

I traveled all over the world with this painting as I moved and it was with me in many homes.

She mesmerized me for 20 years.

It feels like letting go of a huge chapter that she signifies.

All our attachments are the way we hold onto a past version of us.

A moment in time.

Something we don’t want to lose.

But the truth is, we lose it all.

Every. Single. Thing.

Every. Single. Person.

Every. Single. Moment.

We lose this moment every moment.

Grief can be soft.

Like tender ripples.

We don’t have to hold on while we grieve the loss.

We can let it softly slip away.

Practicing this has been a lifetime initiation for me.

And I don’t imagine it will ever end.