Descansos: Honoring the Past, Embracing the Future
In releasing anything, a part of you leaves too, and the idea of proactively cutting off parts of myself not knowing if I’ll maybe someday need it, was in many ways prolonging a need to accept an end.
Descansos: A place of rest
Whew, what a couple of weeks it has been. I don’t think I could address this newsletter and its timeliness, without taking a moment to speak briefly on one of the biggest elections of my lifetime. A range of emotions has collectively been felt and I’m still working my way through them all, as I know many of us are.
Given I live in Washington D.C., I was able to go to Howard University’s election watch party. What started off as excitement, moved to anxiety, then disbelief. Days following, all I felt was fear, rage, and a deep sadness. I allowed myself all the space to feel each of those. And now, I am at the stage of figuring out what to do next and working with what is in my control.
Emotions and energies are high. Some have begun to mobilize, some are dealing with the fall out of familial relations due to opposing views, some are still in paralyzed states, and others have continued on with everyday life. I personally have found some peace in reframing and limiting my interactions with social media and tv.
All I can say is do what’s necessary for you.
I wrote this in a much more joyous state of mind, so as you read, receive the words and do not be put off by its tone. Ironically, I find this to be perfectly timed as we continue on this journey of surrendering. In my last newsletter, I spoke on the power of surrender and the beauty in releasing the need to control everything in life. And while my initial experience in Sardinia proved how fruitful it can be, the reality of surrendering is far from boating around italy.
There is a much deeper emotion that can accompany surrendering, and that is grief.
This next journey takes us to Yosemite, which if you’ve never been to, please add that as a must-see destination. It was four days of healthy dopamine in which I spent some much needed time in nature, met some amazing people, had soul nourishing conversations, and most importantly, laid a lot to rest.
The build up of this trip came just weeks after I had returned from Europe and was still figuring out how to implement this idea of surrendering into my everyday practice. What I came to discover early on is that surrendering is easy and all fun and games when you get the outcomes you want. Use Sardinia as the example - surrendering to a moment and as a result getting the steak and boat you prayed for, creates a bit of a quick buy in process and false sense of true surrender.
Yes, moments like these keep spirits high, however, on the other side of that coin is the heavier reality that ACTUAL surrender means having to not only release your own expectations, but requires you to accept that there’s an outcome that could go against everything you thought you wanted; being left only to move in faith that it’ll all come together at some point.
In acknowledging this, the next step was identifying what I needed to release or prune, and in its release, what desired outcomes had accompanied it that could also disappear. I started jotting down some names, old preconceived beliefs, activities, etc., and it quickly turned into a negotiation session with myself. “If I release A, I can at least keep B”… “Well, if I get rid of all these things, then what?” “This isn’t that bad; I can keep it and tone it back.” It was a struggle.
As I’m sound boarding my list with my best friend (per usual), the real question became, what do you genuinely fear in letting these things go? My initial response was the fear of rejection, but that didn’t feel right leaving my lips. So I said, let me think about that some more. By morning, I had the real answer. Grief.
In releasing anything, a part of you leaves too, and the idea of proactively cutting off parts of myself not knowing if I’ll maybe someday need it, was in many ways prolonging a need to accept an inevitable end.
When it came to friends and even ex-lovers, the idea of existing in the gray felt better than cutting the cord because then I didn’t actually have to grieve the fullness of something no-longer being a possibility. In setting new boundaries to avoid certain behaviors, it meant releasing the belief that ‘everyone likes me’ or that ‘I’m dependable’ and being forced to realize the difference in support versus enablement versus the role you like playing because of how important it made you feel.
As if a book couldn’t be more timely, I came across this gem by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, called "Women Who Run With the Wolves." In her book, she introduces her readers to the concept of roadside memorials, called descansos, often found in the Southwestern US and Latin America. They mark the spot where someone died, typically in an accident.
But descansos, as she goes on to mention, are more than just markers of death. They're a way to honor the past, acknowledge loss, and release the soul to move on. They're a physical manifestation of letting go, a reminder that endings are a natural part of life's cycle.
Throughout the chapter, Estés emphasizes that building descansos is a continuous practice. Life is full of mini-deaths and rebirths, and each ending deserves to be acknowledged and honored. Just like pruning, it's about recognizing the impermanence of things and creating space for new growth. I knew this was actually what I needed to keep going. A descansos for all the things I needed to release.
Heading to Yosemite, I knew it’d be the perfect place for my descansos. I spent much time thinking through how I wanted to not only release everything but also honor the older versions of myself and the future possibilities that won’t come to fruition.
I decided it would be two parts. In part one, I wrote myself a goodbye letter, thanking each person, belief, and desire for the part it played in my life. I thanked God for giving me strength to release and prayed for an increase in faith to trust the process. I then thanked myself, which sounded a bit like Snoop’s Hollywood Walk of Fame speech. I read it aloud, then burned it in the firepit.
For part two, I knew I wanted to be in the actual park. Once we got to Yosemite, we stopped at Mirror Lake for a bit, before getting to the strenuous part of the hike. Here, I not only had my first snack, but looking at the water, I knew it’d be a great place for me to set intentions and speak life into my future self. So I sat on a tree, planted both my hands on the trunk, and took that moment to do just that.
The next day, I jumped off a cliff for the first time and to me, that felt like a great way to bring it all home. A rebirth was in motion.
It’s been about two months since Yosemite and I can say I feel lighter but grief itself is a process. Some days are better than others but in those rougher moments, I know I am at least feeling and moving in a space of clarity.
As each of us look to what’s next, consider creating your own descansos. Write a letter, call a loved one, spend some time in nature, or find another way to acknowledge and release what you're leaving behind.
Two things can be true at once:
Yes, I am a healthier version of myself in each release
Yes, releases don’t always feel good
Remember, a part of surrendering does come with its highs, however when we are letting go, it is not about forgetting or erasing the past. It's about honoring it, learning from it, and creating space for new growth and possibilities. I’d challenge you to think through a few questions:
What idea/belief about myself am I releasing?
What physical thing am I releasing? This can be a person, place, or thing
How do I want to honor this version of me?
Hope this helps someone.
With love always,
Jamie ✈️ 🌎