Let go or be dragged. Oh, what those fall leaves can teach us.

Those fall leaves have a lesson to teach us all.

Every day on my walk around the lake, I see them letting go. I love when the wind blows and they fall like confetti from the sky. Or when the wind kicks them up on the ground and they run around like kids at recess.

The ones that don’t let go are my teachers, too. They stay and cling and turn brown on the branch and shiver there all through winter.

There truly is a beauty in letting go, of releasing the old and gently falling away from it.

Life has taught me that letting go takes more courage than hanging on. I used to hang on to relationships until I had road rash from them dragging me to places I didn’t belong and didn’t even want to go.

Those leaves, if you listen, will teach you: Let go, let go, let go.

Falling is scary. But watch them. It truly is stepping without feet. The leaves make it look easy. They pirouette, they spin, they dance, they float, they look like they’re having a blast once they’ve left the security of that tree.

This week, let go of something. Release your grip. It could be a friend, a lover, a family member who feels more like a homework assignment than a relationship. Let go of projects and identities and tasks that no longer serve you or the world.

It’s okay to leave the life you had so you can love the life that emerges.

Release with love. Instead of telling yourself, I love them, but I’m letting go. Try this: I love them, and, I’m letting go.

Untether yourself. Untangle yourself. As the great Ray Bradbury wrote, “Life should be touched, not strangled.”

Rumi said it a bit more gently: “This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.”

 This week, take one step without feet. Let go and see what happens and where life takes you.

Anywhere you are, in the letting go, in the falling, in the landing, there with you, is Love.