i woke up this morning singing the Beatles'
Let it Be. i also imagined
getting the words inked onto my hand; surely somewhere between the tattoos of
truth
and
love i can make room for the patience that such a phrase inspires.
i can think of few attitudes more unseemly than impatience: the woman tapping
her foot in the grocery store checkout lane; the man whose hand falls heavy on
the horn the instant the stoplight turns green.
"Let it be," Mother Mary whispers to Paul. "Let it be,"
he sings to us. "Let it be," i say to myself. "Adrienne, let it
be."
My favorite author wrote these words to me today, as well. He asked me in
the gentlest of ways if i can sit in the silence, in deep communion with myself
and with another, and simply let it be, whatever "it" may be.
For me, to let something "be" is to resist the impulse to wrap my
arms around the object of my attention - to resist the urge to apply force and
move it, in the best sense of the word "move" - to rouse emotion, to
affect passion, to
move it in the kinds of ways that i like to be moved.
And yet, what the phrase "let it be" reminds me is that whatever this thing or
desire or person in front of me is, it is not me. it is something altogether different
from me, and who am i to move it from its place.
The words "let it be" move me to the concept of "abiding."
Abide is a rich word with layers of meaning. On the surface, it means simply "to accept," but as the impatience
of the woman in the checkout lane and the urgency of the man honking his horn indicate:
acceptance is no simple action; in fact, sometimes it requires no action at all
- and that is the tricky part.
But
abide also means "to bear," in the sense of supporting
heavy weight and enduring. This kind of abiding is the kind that continues on without
fading, without being lost.
Perhaps then, to abide is to let it be - that person, that situation, that
desire, that hope, that dream, that obstacle before you, before me; to
let it be and
to
be with it while still holding on to the lines that define the self;
without losing who you are, without letting who i am fade into it, into him, into
her.
These last few days i've been moving a bit slower, pausing a bit more, abiding
with some truths about myself, as well as with some fears, some uncertainties;
some frightening and some calming. in the end i suppose i'm also learning
to
let myself be, just as
i am, and to believe that even if someone never comes
along to move me in all the ways that i like to be moved, that there are those abiding
with me too; like my friend, sitting on my couch across from me as i write this, drinking wine next to my fireplace, tapping the letters on her keyboard just as i am. Today she told me why she decided to marry her husband:
"Because being with him felt like being alone."
And with those few words, she gave me permission to feel alone and confused in those moments when i want something so badly and the universe seems to be telling me to wait, so long as i also remember that even on the
loneliest of days i am, in fact, not alone, not at all.
Let it be, oh fearful one inside of me. Patience; let it be. There will be an answer. For now, just let it be.
