(This is from awhile back.. haven't been online much, but that's about to change... been breaking/starting horses and processing all I've learned. I'll be back soon. I promise. d)

October 5th, 2008
When I set out on this journey, I knew it was about letting go. I knew I was making a film about the fact that our current world is unsustainable, and in time, we will have to let go of one paradigm to make way for another.

This past week the idea of letting go changed for me. This past week I had to let go of one of my greatest teachers. A dear friend and guide in my life left this world and crossed the great divide.

I have spent many hours sitting, listening, talking, and learning. I’ve learned about lots of things in my time with her, but most importantly, she taught me to trust myself and listen to my intuition. That if I take the time to honestly look inwards, I am often one of my greatest teachers. It’s the taking the time to calm the river, settle the mind, and listen that’s always been the hardest part, but I know I’m doing just fine.

I’ve also learned to build beautiful things, to help people while to not always interfere, to keep my mouth shut, to marvel as it all unfolds, and to simply have a good time and… be happy.

I think in life we often know these things, but for some reason we turn away from ourselves; we turn away from a simple truth of letting go in favor of a more difficult holding on. Trying to control an uncontrollable reality.

After all… it IS hard to let go.

A few years ago I sat in her kitchen talking. She asked me about us. I told her it was time that I find a new teacher, I told her she couldn’t be there for me forever, she smiled in that way she smiles, proud that I was learning to feel the world around me. But I didn’t know then what it all meant. Knowing, without knowing what I know, or how I know it. I didn’t know it would be one of the last times I saw her.

Although in the past week I’ve cried like I haven’t cried in years, waking up in the night with tear-soaked pillows, it feeling so good to cry, I must say that I’m not all that sad for her. I’ll miss our conversations, I’ll miss her front steps, I’ll miss her hugs and smiles, and that feeling she radiated outwards, that everything will be ok, and everything is exactly where it needs to be.

That’s how I feel now: everything is exactly where it needs to be.

I guess with any significant change, our personal paradigms shift. We let go and allow new aspects of ourselves to emerge. In this case, a part of the child I was when I first met her is gone, and I find myself sharpening the tools she helped me develop and setting out to honor her spirit and all the gifts she gave me.

Milli, I love you, I thank you, and I wish you well on your journey.

peace,
d