Lessons on Attachment

Letting the unknown become known in its own time.

As anyone knows who has been around here for at least a year, I am unabashedly a New Year lover; anything, really, as an excuse for contemplating what has passed and what is yet to come. It seems that, at least for this year, I’ve turned a new leaf. I haven’t been as interested in thinking about my goals (or as it’s trendier to say, intentions) for the next year, nor am I as obsessed with analyzing what happened over the last 12 months. I guess I’ve relaxed a little? Become less attached to holding self-improvement as my identity?

Before I get too ahead of myself—here are some 2023 reflections. I haven’t changed that much.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes this last year; changed my ideas every few months; fallen out of contact with friends I love; grieved a version of my life that shook out to be not quite right for no reason in particular. I moved from one side of the void to another, and I think I’ll always have at least one arm and leg in here. Especially this year, it’s become more comfortable to accept the unknown qualities of the unknown than try to fill it too soon. Letting the unknown become known in its own time creates less resistance.

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Last March, I moved to a new city, where I initially put a lot of effort into building a life. I created things to fill all of my time, tried a series of groups and clubs, and showed up to events alone, a lot. I met people, fell into new experiences, and remained lonely and uncertain about whether I was in the “right place”.

Five or so months in, I relaxed a little and slowed down; that’s when my life in San Diego began falling into place. The feeling I’d been hoping to arrive to—the one that feels like yes, I’m supposed to be here, yes I can stay—finally came. It seems significant that all of this only came after a period of working hard and intentionally, then easing off and letting go.

Throughout everything that’s happened this last year, I’ve been more aware of my level of attachment to both the process and the outcome. When I tighten my grip around what’s currently happening, or what I want to happen, I feel increasingly anxious and constricted. If I’ve learned anything over the last 12 months, it’s that I really cannot predict with any trustworthy accuracy what’s coming, or how I am going to change along the way. Most of it is out of my control, and gripping doesn’t work. What I can work on is myself, what I pay attention to, and what I spend my energy and time on. I’m interested in approaching the new year with a looser grip. I’d like to keep practicing holding everything with an open palm.

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I’m learning to take each chapter of my life as it comes, for what it is. I’m also learning that the next chapter is usually accompanied by the recognition that what came before was important, as stressful or unexpected or wonderful as it was. What came before is what allows this current chapter to be written.

I haven’t outlined my next chapter yet, and I actually don’t want to. I’m not carrying as many rules or plans with me. I want to see what’s coming to fill in the blanks, and when I’m allowed to fill some in for myself—I will do so with gusto.

The advice I’ll start my new year with is this: the moment in front of us is what matters most. What we pay attention to right now, and what we give our energy to, is really what shapes what is to come. Remembering this does more for me than a list of steps to achieve my goals.

It’s Christmas as I’m writing this, so I’ll leave it at that and go eat some more coffee cake.

May your 2023 conclude with something special! Don’t overthink it.

Maggie