Letting go of expectations and outcomes

I don’t believe in coincidences. I believe in signs. Today, I came across the same idea twice. It was something I’d never quite considered before—the idea that in order to live a free and fulfilling, joyful life, you must not care too much about how things turn out. One must let go all expectations and outcomes.

Let go of the end result (i.e. intentional living).

That morning over coffee, I read Hallelujah Anyway by Anne Lamott. I’ve always been a fan of her slightly nonchalant approach to faith, treating God more like the friend to whom you could tell your darkest secrets to rather than the big man upstairs who’s quick to strike you with lightning should you ever admit what you did (or thought) last Saturday night. In the book, she said she wished that she could become someone who cared less about everything in this life and simply enjoyed more. She quoted the Indian teacher and philosopher Krishnamurti:

“…when asked what was the secret to his serenity, [he] said in his soft, shy voice, ‘I don’t mind what happens.'”

This is the moment when the little joy-sucking Type A devil within me cringed. Just the very idea of not minding what happens with my projects, my health, my art, my life—it’s all too much. I’ve spent so much time sorting, planning, plotting, organizing, calorie counting, to-do list ticking…how could I ever stop all these tedious tasks and simply lean into whatever happens. It’s like trust falling without ever peering back to be sure someone—the right people, people whom you know won’t let you go crashing to the ground—are there.

Still, the idea of leaning into the chaos, not worrying about the result, appeals to me on a soul level. Pretty words, but how could such a thing be possible for such a girl as me?

Listen when your heart and soul speak.

Later, I happened to stumble across the most lovely of YouTube channels. Fairyland Cottage makes me miss the countryside and having a yard. (Briefly, because let’s be real. I’m not in Ireland, and it’s hotter than Satan’s house cat in Georgia.) Anyway, I found the Irish accent and soft music charming and was instantly mesmerized by it all. In the video, she mentions how she focused too much on perfection when she was younger, but now she sees the power and joy in mistakes. 

Failure grows our intuition. Even in the face of disappointment, we must remember that all of life is about the process. She suggests that we shouldn’t try to be perfect. Just go along and not become attached to the outcome, simply leaning into what we can do at this moment—this day.

Again, my soul delighted in such a kind, gentle concept. I’m a fickle creature. The day’s tide can wave me from one desire to the next within a few hours’ time. Because of that, my focus easily fades. I’m always beating myself up over that. I struggle with consistency because change is so much more exciting. Perhaps the answer isn’t to push myself to be someone I’m not. Maybe, just maybe, I can learn to trust—possibly even grow to love—who I am naturally: fickleness and all.

The middle is a softer, kinder place.

I think there’s much in life that we miss. Most of it is unavoidable. We have deadlines. Bills to pay. Appointments to make. Mouths to feed. But what if all our busyness is little more than distractions keeping us from focusing on deeper, soulful matters? What are we rushing toward? Retirement? Death? We work so hard for a distant future that we forget to live in the only thing we really have…the present. Have we really put all our eggs into the someday basket? 

This got me thinking. It’s hard to fathom growing old. It’s hard to wrap your mind around still being yourself but less capable. I’m in my mid-30s, and every year that goes by, I feel this haunting feeling of age creeping up like a shadow I can’t escape. It’s a dark reminder that the days are numbered. Time is not infinite for any of us. And what will I do with the time I have left?

When you think this way, you start to get this urging feeling that you need to–have to– make changes. There are things you’re not willing to live with any longer. Some things are tying you down, making you unhappy, things that are stripping you of your numbered days on this earth.

We mustn’t allow anything to keep us from finding peace and joy in the middle of our journeys.

The culling season has begun.

Every few years, I feel like there’s this need to cull, this desire to remove things that are not for me. And the past year and a half have been part of another season of culling. Stripping away all the junk I’d acquired in the years before was not an easy process. It can be a slow, somewhat painful one. When we pull away from obligations for our own freedom, not everyone will be supportive. Still, the culling is necessary for us to thrive again.

The other day it struck me that one of my favorite plants, a prayer plant, hadn’t been re-potted since I’d received it. She—I call her Mary—still looked beautiful, but underneath, she had become horribly root-bound. I had to cut her from her nursery pot. Because she still appeared to be thriving, I hadn’t noticed. How many of us seem to be excelling when we’re struggling behind closed doors? Our smiles and social media reels are meant to fool the world that we’re living happy lives when so often we’re silently tending to our wounds. Immediately, I repotted Mary to give her some much-needed room to grow. This is what the culling season is for—to give yourself room to thrive again. I’m excited to see how Mary responds to all her new, open space in the coming months.

Life is short. Choose wisely.

We have all heard the saying, “the days are long, but the years are short.” That became awfully apparent the other day while talking to my husband when I was trying to remember a book I loved but couldn’t recount the story. “All I remember is that I loved it,” I told him. “How strange it is that I can remember how it made me feel but not the actual details of it.” Then I realized I’d read the book in 2012. It seemed like a short time ago in some ways, but I’ve read some 700 books since. No wonder. 

Such is life. When we revisit our memories, we’re going to remember how people, moments, and events made us feel. The details will grow fuzzy as time passes, but we’ll never forget the things that gave us joy, or peace, or pain. We walk around life pinning our hearts to things, to people… and one day, we’ll try to pull it back, and all that will remain is the words we associated with the memory. 

Life is precious and not long enough. We must choose wisely. Every obligation, every project, every piece of art, every book you start, everything matters. And everything will either take away or give to those numbered days. 

Should we choose the right things, though, the days are filled with joy, peace, love, and fun. They’re filled with memories and beauty. They’re filled with all the things that we hold dear.

Today is a precious gift.

So, if the outcome truly isn’t the point, what is? Today. And whatever tomorrows we have. It’s how we spend them, that is the point. Today, I allow all my dreams, goals, and desires to set sail. I am letting go of all my expectations. I imagine them burning away like a Viking’s funeral… cast out onto the current away from me. 

My days would be best spent writing the stories I want to write, surrounded by the people I love the most, doing all the things I enjoy most. That’s my best life.

What’s yours?

“The Slow Calm” by Jon E. Amber

https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/04zZ9Ipjp0/

Ghostpocalypse – 6 Crossing the Threshold Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/