Letting Go

(Originally printed in my weekly newsletter, The Pub Crawl. It's totally free; sign up here if you'd like to hear my ramblings on a weekly basis. Oh! And it comes with a free copy of The Guest Book.)

Look Ma, no hands!

My younger daughter Julie is a horseback rider.

As someone who is terrified of heights (and also any animal larger than a cat), I am constantly impressed by how fearless she is. I don’t know what it is about horseback riding that she’s so drawn to, but it is decidedly not my thing. However, every now and then I notice that lessons in horseback riding are largely transferable to lessons in life. That happened this past week, so I thought I’d share.

In the equine world, there are two types of riding (that I’m aware of): English and Western. English is the fancy-schmancy rich people business, and Western is like cowboy stuff. Julie rides Western, and at her riding center she typically has lessons on a horse named Oreo. Well, this past week her teacher (Dina) was telling her to make Oreo canter, and for some reason he just kept stopping.

“You’re pulling too hard. Holding on too tight. It’s hurting his mouth,” Dina explained. “He’ll listen to you if you trust him. Just let him go.” Dina instructed Julie to set the reins down. Getting a horse to canter involves a combination of squeezing your legs into the horse’s sides, making a kissing noise with your mouth, and positioning yourself in the seat a certain way. With her hands on her hips, Julie followed Dina’s directions. “Just trust him,” Dina said.

So she did.

It was incredible to watch.

Julie looked almost regal sitting upright on that horse. It was a beautiful symbiosis: she set an intention for what she wanted and Oreo received it. Without being pulled or prodded, he granted her wish.

I realized I could learn a lot from Julie and Oreo.

When you set an intention and then let go, magic can happen. So that’s what I’ve been doing. I made a promise to myself that I would write every day this month. I’m not under contract, not on a deadline. I’m writing for me. Taking a breath and letting the words come. And whatever they are, I honor them and believe that they will find a home with a publisher once they’re on paper, if they’re meant to. And if not, that’s okay too.

I don’t have any control over the process, just like Julie doesn’t really have any control over an 1,100 pound animal. So it benefits me to let go.

Last year, I pulled so hard on the reins of my publishing career that I got myself good and sick. I planned a tour with 30 stops. I juggled traveling with a full time job and a family that needed me and you know what? It didn’t sell a million books. I didn’t become a New York Times bestselling author. The hard work didn’t make that much of a difference.

This year, I have a book coming out and I haven’t planned a single tour stop yet. I haven’t reached out to any bookstores. I haven’t even spoken to my agent or my publicist about it. It’s not that I don’t care; it’s that I’ve learned that success is not up to me. It’s an interdependence between me and the universe. And if it’s meant to happen, then it will.