Thursday, December 11, 2025
Whatever you feel you cannot do without, be ready for a tooth extraction. I cannot live without my husband. Be ready for death. I cannot live without income. Be ready for joblessness. I cannot live without my vices, my support, my church, or my peeps. The fear of loss is denial of the inevitable. It’s insanity, thinking loss is your enemy. Nothing is yours to own.
Imagine holding my hand. Let’s hold hands for a while, and then we’ll notice how awkward it becomes. Initially it might be “cute” like a staring contest, but it slowly becomes weird, and you’ll notice your body clamoring to let go. The cuddly effect wanes, and the urge to clasp is gnawed by the urge to release. The hands get clammy. Soon, what attracts, repulses. And when you let go, you’ll have been relieved of discomfort.
Then, emptiness. In the vacuity, attraction recycles, and you might want to hold my hand again. And then the process repeats. This is a wonderful lesson in what we do to ourselves. We hold on when we’re truthfully repulsed. We avert when we’re truthfully attracted. We fear, not recognizing loss is truly welcomed. Ephemerality is friendly, but we are not open to the wonderful world of “less, loss, and without.”
It’s okay to lean in, to give a cuddle, or to embrace. But it’s equally as nice to step back, to release, and to be empty-handed. Clinginess is mental caging that disallows you to be loose, supple, and forgiving. The author of this blog was the world’s clingiest person, and when his vices were pried out of his cold, dead hands, it burned something away.
In that space, which morphed into healing, suppleness was born and bade welcome to the prodigal son – loss, less, and without. Welcome friend, thanks for loss, for in it, I have gained much wealth.