Like Velcro

Allison Nazarian Life Lessons, Living Life

Often the things that we want, that we dream of, look and seem a certain way in our dreams.

Whether it is a relationship, a scenario (like a job or career), a possession (like a home or a car) or an accomplishment (like winning an award or having a child, perhaps), sometimes we hold tight onto that dream for many, many years and sometimes it happens or comes to us in a very specific way in the movie we have made about it in our mind.

We become focused on that one “look” of the thing, hell-bent to have it come into our life in just that way. What I have been working on lately (and not with all that much success, I will have you know) is detaching from how I think the things I dream of are supposed to be and focusing more on why I want (or think I want) them and what the end result will mean for me on a beyond-how-it-arrives level.

Every time I find myself thinking “this is the only way I will have a publishing house sign my next book” (just one of many examples, by the way), I try to first be aware of that thinking itself (which can be difficult, especially when it is a way of thinking that has been going on for years) and then to next remind myself to detach from the details.

Yes, detach. Like two pieces of Velcro.

(Think of the Velcro noise. That’s the noise I remind myself of every single time. It works.)

The two pieces of Velcro are stuck on one other as tightly and snugly as can be. No movement, usually little wiggle room. Black and white, yes or no. The only way to break that attachment is to rip them apart. And maybe start over. Or not. Or wait. Or not.

Don’t get me wrong: I still want to write books and help others do the same all day long as my full-time job. I want to make my living and pay my bills (and then some) from this pursuit. I want to sometimes travel around and meet others who are in transition and who are waking up to a new life. I want to inspire and be inspired. To empower and be empowered. To connect on a profound level.

Sometimes I wonder why it hasn’t yet happened and what maybe I am doing “wrong.” Sometimes I see it has already happened. And sometimes, I see that perhaps I have been, forgive the term, cock-blocking my own self from this very thing. Because it had to look a certain way or X, Y and Z had to happen before this dream could become a reality, I have postponed it or scared it off or turned the other way when I was actually facing it.

I don’t know a ton, but what I do know is that detachment is one of the surest ways to expand my chances of getting what I want while still being happy in the meantime. Instead of always striving and thinking I haven’t done enough, I need to do more, I am not “there” yet, detaching allows me to to step back, to enjoy what I do have (which is a lot) and to just be.

Detaching doesn’t mean you don’t want that thing or that outcome. It doesn’t mean you are abandoning the dream. It doesn’t mean you don’t care — because you do care, a whole lot. Detaching means that you are expanding and not narrowing. That you are opening to that thing or something even better. That you are not so focused that you have lost all perspective. Detaching means you are choosing you and now over someday and maybe.

Detachment allows me (and you) to see right now not as “in the meantime” but as “everything.”

Like Velcro. That static-y sound the Velcro makes as the two surfaces are being ripped apart and separated. That’s me choosing to let go and to be open and to relinquish the feeling of control (which, by the way, is different than actually being in control). That’s you choosing the same, perhaps. It’s me deciding uncertainty is ok. It’s me walking the walk when it comes to loving my mess.

Like Velcro. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

 

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