The Things We Cling To

There is a house in my neighborhood that has been sitting in disrepair for years. Apparently, the woman who owned it had a son who died there, and she couldn’t bear to sell. She didn’t live in or near the house, and so it sat, year after year, falling apart. Recently, on an evening walk, I noticed someone had finally begun to renovate. The transformation, in its beginning stages, was so surprising, it took me a minute to realize it was that house.

It struck me how often we do the same thing in our own lives. We hold on to something - a relationship, a job, an old version of ourselves - because we’re afraid that if we let go, we’ll lose the memory, or that change will change us in ways we can’t predict. But clinging doesn’t preserve what we love; it keeps us stuck among the ruins while life moves forward without us.

Embracing change doesn’t mean forgetting or abandoning what matters most. Memories, love, and meaning don’t disappear when we release our grip; they live within us, and they can be honored in new forms. Alternatively, release can mean loosening our attachment to sorrow and outdated narratives that no longer define who we are. Making space for what’s next doesn’t erase the past; it allows both past and future to breathe side by side. 

The final line in Mary Oliver’s poem, The Summer Day asks, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”  If we spend our time clinging to what is gone, we risk missing the beauty unfolding right in front of us.

If you’re open to it, ask yourself: 

What am I actually holding onto? 

Who is this serving? 

What do I lose with release? 

What might open up if you allowed yourself to loosen your grip and make room for what’s next?

xoxo,

Meghan