Dear Reader,

This is a letter about letting go. It focuses on the empty nest, but it applies to bereavements, breakups, mortality, etc.

Lately, I’ve gotten a lot of letters from friends and readers facing empty nests.

One friend’s son left for college in September. For two months after, she said, she and her husband were “like Sicilian widows. It is a multi-pronged grieving process. It’s not just the loss of the child’s presence, but of the whole family unit.” The late essayist, Michael Gerson, described it as a time of “random, useless tears.” “Youth speeds by,” wrote another friend, “then it leaves with our hearts.”

​

I’m struck by how little our culture prepares us for the empty nest, and for all the moments of letting go (the bereavements, the breakups, our own mortality, etc.) that thread through our lifetimes.

And it strikes me that the time to let go is not when our children leave for college, but when they leave the womb.

Not only because it will make the empty nest easier, but because it makes us better parents while they’re still here.

This is what Kahlil Gibran teaches, in his great 1923 poem, “On Children”. I love this poem so much, and am constantly sending it to friends who've just given birth.

This need to let go, in advance, applies to all of love’s transitions, including the final one, of death. To anticipate that these changes will come – to really know it in your bones – is to let our arrows (children) fly – to love them, as they are meant to be loved.

But it’s also to rejoice in being “the bow that is stable.”

This applies to our relationship to life and love itself.

As Rainer Maria Rilke wrote,

The question, of course, is how we’re supposed to do this. As a culture, we could use some rituals for letting go – ideally ones that we’d start performing in Spring, rather than waiting for Winter to arrive. In Bittersweet, I wrote about a tribe where the mothers give up a prized possession every year, to prepare for their sons’ departures at adolescence.

But what if you haven’t been performing such rituals starting when your kids were newborns? If you’re right this minute gazing tearfully into your grown child’s empty bedroom, which you’re in danger of converting into a shrine, how can you recover yourself?

The thing is, it’s never too late for such practices. My friend Kara Snead, who’s currently facing empty nestitude, recommends a modern-day version. “Have your long-term friends remind you of the aspects of yourself that you’ve sacrificed,” she advises, “and lean into those for a while.”

In Bittersweet, I wrote about other such rituals: the Tibetan monks who turn over their water glasses at night, to remember that they might be dead by morning, with no more use for water. The Stoic philosopher Seneca, who suggested that each night we tell ourselves that “You may not wake up tomorrow,” and each morning we remember that “You may not sleep again.”

Because I spent so many years writing Bittersweet, I remind myself of these things constantly -- not so much in ritual form, as in an altered consciousness that has taken this reality in, and absorbed it into everyday life. (In case you're wondering, this has made me quietly happier, not sadder. Still, you never take it in completely - as I discovered when I had that health scare I wrote to you about, a few weeks ago.)

Do you practice any such rituals ? Have you had a recent brush with letting go?

I would love to hear about it. (I read every single one of your e-mails, and do my best to reply to some of them.)

Love,

Susan

P.S. Do you know someone who loves quiet, depth, and beauty? If so, please forward this Kindred newsletter! It's meant for them!

If you were forwarded this email, click here to sign up!
​

Want more like this? You might love my books and courses.
​

​

​

​Bittersweet Course​

For those who've signed up for my interactive SMS course (audio and written texts from me, delivered straight to your phone--see below for more info!) I hope you're loving it so far! Here's what some of you have had to say:

"I treasured the experience...it was life-giving...I looked forward to Susan's offering every day. The course helped me anchor into the beauty and goodness all around me."

"Susan's course transformed my mindset to one of total acceptance of the world as it is: a beautiful combination of dark and light."

The course is the perfect companion to the Bittersweet book, which was just named a Best Book of 2022 by Amazon and Audible!

The course is designed to help you turn pain into creativity or healing, and to incorporate more joy and beauty into your daily life. The best part? It’s delivered straight to your phone, via text message or WhatsApp. You’ll get audio and written texts from me: my voice in your ear, my words on your screen, every morning for thirty days. Join me for 30 days of exploration, through audio lessons, guided meditations, reflections on art and music: all curated and designed to help you unlock the transformative power of bittersweetness.
​

​

​

​Quiet at Work Course​

I'm excited to share my SMS course designed to empower you at work (at home or in the office): as an employee, as a colleague, and as a leader. Every morning for 30 days, through a combination of exercises, strategies, and audio teachings from me, all of which I’ll send directly to your phone, you’ll get the tools you need to communicate, to network, and to lead as an introvert – without having to pretend to be someone else. Instead, you’ll learn to tap the unique and powerful gifts you already have. Would you like to join me? If so, you can sign up below (and choose your own start date)!

​

​

​