My Hands Are Full

This is an old story told by the Cherokee, the long version is much better, but we don't have much time so this will have to do. 

A Grandfather and grandson were walking in the forest.  The Elder began pointing out bits and pieces of nature, small glimpses of the wonders of the forest.  He asked his grandson to carry 'a few' things for him and without hesitation the grandson agreed.  They walked for hours.  The Elder saw much he prized and picked up one item after another, asking permission, giving thanks, and handing it over to be carried.  Soon, his grandson was stuffing his pockets, his back pack, and juggling as  many of these prize articles as he could. The Elder finally exclaimed joy over finding a special but large rock and bent to examine it.  Once again asking permission and giving thanks, he bid his grandson to carry it too.

"But Grandfather my hands are full."

The Elder smiled and looked deeply at his grandson and said, "I guess you'll just have to drop something."

This is the way of letting go.  We gather so much to ourselves, we think we have to or need to have more.  We think we will let someone else down because we can not carry any more.  Or, and this one is the worst, we think we will miss out on something, so we hold on to more and more.

Letting go is patience and wisdom and courage.  Simple and complex.

Letting go is not something you practice, you do it.  Or you don't.