Let it go little leaf, yoga on the beach.
- Laura Puleio Grabinski
- 1 hour ago
- 3 min read
I watched this leaf for about three minutes, hanging on by a thread.
Well... a spiderweb thread.
I was feeling all sorts of emotions that day. For the past week or so, I had been sitting deep in my feelings, trying to make sense of life. Anger and resentment seemed to be coming at me from every direction. I arrived at work carrying the weight of it all, and then nature offered me this unexpected gift.
I stood there wondering, What the heck? If this leaf couldn't let go, how in the world was I supposed to?
As it sprillaled in the breeze, suspended between holding on and falling, it became a mirror. I found myself contemplating its fragile state—and my own.
Eventually I had to go inside, though I desperately wanted to see the moment it finally released. It didn't. Not yet.
I taught for the next five hours, and the day never seemed to soften. Someone poked the bear in me. I felt provoked, unseen, and as though I didn't matter.
The truth is, we were both simply trying to do our jobs in the same shared space, but our work couldn't have been more different. One of us needed quiet and stillness. Mine depends on interaction, conversation, and connection.
Looking back, I realize we were both struggling to adapt to new energy and unfamiliar circumstances. In another season of life, we might have met each other with more grace.
Instead, we were both fighting to survive.
There's a huge difference.
Maybe that's why the leaf stayed suspended all day. It wasn't refusing to let go. It was waiting for the right moment, the right breeze, the right conditions.
Perhaps that's true for us, too.
Sometimes letting go isn't about force. It's about trusting that, when we're ready, what has been holding us will gently release us into whatever comes next.
That little leaf held on from the moment I first noticed it at 9:30 that morning until I finished my workday around 3:00. It never let go.
The next day, I parked in the same spot just to see if it was still there.
It wasn't.
I smiled to myself and thought, Okay... my turn is coming soon.
A couple of days later, I finally let go—not of the situation, but of my ego.
The leaf had been teaching me something I wasn't ready to understand. Letting go wasn't something I could force. I needed to feel the anger first. I needed to get underneath it and ask myself why I had been so deeply affected. What was this really about?
I hadn't felt anger this intense in a long time. It felt as if I was suffocating beneath it. But beneath the anger wasn't hatred. It was exhaustion. It was hurt. It was the quiet realization that I hadn't been making time for myself to rest, to feel, or to heal.
I wanted the leaf to fall because I wanted proof that release could happen instantly.
Instead, nature reminded me that some things stay suspended until they're ready.
The leaf didn't cling because it was weak.
It held on because it wasn't time.
Neither was I.
Sometimes letting go isn't about force. It's about trusting that, when we're ready, what has been holding us will gently release us into whatever comes next.
This week Matt is having surgery on Wednesday morning so I have cancelled class.
July 27-August 1
Monday 9am Gentle Yoga with Sheila
Friday 9am Vinyasa Flow with Lo
Sunday 9am Reset and Renew with Alex
Faithfully,
Lo
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