As I was driving back up the I-270 corridor from Rockville to Frederick, I came upon a big Cadillac with a pearlized cream exterior and a balding man at the wheel. It wasn't the man I noticed as much as the vanity plate...
This simple message may have had many meanings--a special one to the car's owner, another to a teenaged boy, another to an extreme sports fanatic, and yet another to me.
As I drifted along behind him, doing the requisite 15 mph over the speed limit (so as not to be flattened by the other drivers), I puzzled over all of these possible meanings in my head. I forgot to hear what was on the radio. I forgot to think about all of the things I had to do when I got home. The world faded away from me.
Did this aging man skydive, I wondered? Did he "let go" of the airplane? Or did he bungee jump? Did he "let go" of the bridge?
Did he "Let Go, Let God" in AA?
Maybe he let go of his ex-wife? Or of the $50K required to purchase the car?
Did he "let go" during the wind-releaser move in yoga class?
I preferred to think he had let go of his worries.
When I was a child and life would become unbearable, I always thought of the teachings of Jesus during the Sermon on the Mount. After all, I was raised Southern Baptist, with weekly Bible studies, Sunday School, choir, vacation Bible school in the summer, and all manner of special events at the church. The Bible was ingrained in me. Jesus said, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin" (Phillipians 6:25-34). I thought of the sparrows, who "sowed not, neither do they reap." And here I am spinning my wheels constantly, trying to find traction in this life. I'm here, where the rubber meets the road, but the rubber isn't even touching the road, and for all the effort I put into pulling the two together, I slowly begin to realize...
There is no rubber.
There is no road.
Or, as the little monk-like child in the Oracle's living room in The Matrix said, "There is no spoon."
All of my struggling simply makes me suffer more. My suffering increases the suffering of those around me. If I could simply let go and let thoughts happen, let life happen, take each minute and breath as it comes, would I not be more settled? Would I not be less anxious?
The Cadillac eventually zoomed away, down a long exit ramp, disappearing around a stand of pines. The message lived in my mind for the rest of the day, however.
I Let Go.
Peace - D