Freedom is the art of letting go, now,
of all that will be washed away in the end — our prejudices and
cares, our politics, arrogance, religion, and despair, our national
identities, our borders, our pride, our patriotism, our greed, our
theft, our war, our grief, our guilt, our anger, our pain, our need
to feel larger, better, smarter, richer, or more sophisticated than
our fellow travelers through this world — yes, and even our talents
and abilities, which are temporarily on loan, and which, in the
absence of grace and of love, can only define us so far. Why cling?
Why sink chained to one’s rest, when one can rise, light as
thistledown in the wind?