Monday October 22nd, 2012

The exercise:

Our theme for today: letting go.

It felt like January today. Blah.

Managed to get about half of the garlic covered with mulch this morning. Also planted a couple rows of lettuce next to it. We figured it worked so well last year by accident, we might as well try doing it on purpose this year. We'll see how things turn out in the spring.

They're calling for wet snow overnight. Toooo soooooon.


We've been strict for too long,
Doing right for fear of wrong,
Strained smiles in place of wrath...
I've grown weary of this path.

It is time to let go,
To stop fearing I don't know.
So sit back with a grin
And watch the steering wheel spin.


Greg said...

It's never too soon for snow! Though I say that in the utter confidence that it won't snow in the UK in October without some more climate change; we'd be lucky to get snow in November. Although, thinking about it, I guess you'd have expected to get the last market of the year out of the way before the snow came.
Heh, I love the second verse of your poem. I just hope you're not talking about Canadian bus-drivers....

Letting go
Charles Asciugimento, Head of Building Security, tsked as he walked out on the shopping floor. He had a headache, a nasty little tension one building behind his left temple. At the moment it was erratic twinges of pain, but he knew from experience that it would soon become a pulsating inner star that wouldn't respond to anything other than sleep. He crossed aisle beta-2 and stepped out on the plaza area, whose ceiling was three floors above, and had galleries running up around it. There were four security guards clustered near the far edge of the plaza, and a woman hanging onto the outside of a railing two floors above them.
"What is going on?" asked Charles, his voice calm, deep and avuncular, exactly the voice you expect Santa to have. "You radioed in about this woman an hour ago."
"She won't let go," said the nearest man, who was tall and gaunt, deep shadows under his eyes. "We've had the blankets and trampolines out for fifty minutes now, and she won't let go. She won't let us catch her."
"I tried prising her fingers loose," said the woman stood behind him, trying not to look ashamed of herself. Charles nodded approvingly, and she hated herself a little more.
"Well done," he said. "i can see that you've done everything I would have asked of you."
There were tiny sighs of relief, and several wide eyes that Charles wasn't getting angry. Someone discreetly put down the hammer they were expecting Charles to insist they take to the woman's fingers.
"Put everything away, and close the plaza. She can come down in her own time. Make sure the camera operators are watching her, and when she comes down, secure whatever's left."
As he walked away, one hand gently rubbing his temple, the woman guard looked at her colleagues, who were already starting to pack up.
"Well, I wished we could just leave her to let go," she said, a little plaintively. "I didn't think we could though."

Anonymous said...

adapted from my own blog piece...

letting go...

’the squeaky wheel gets the most oil’

it doesn’t always need the oil it begs for

when there are those who are innocent, who need your support, you’re busy oiling the wheel

the noise of its squeak is drowning out the quiet appeal  of the victimised innocents

reason flies out the window

we appealed to your eyes, but they glazed over in deference to the wheel that was noisier, dominant

so we left, saddened by the lack of real perspective, reason and compassion
the strings that bound us loosened - I let you go

why does loudness always dominate?

it makes no sense

someone once said it is the ignorant who need the help

but no, that’s giving in

what they need is to listen to the appeal for reason, and listen good

and learn from that

morganna said...

The anxiety hovers in the back of the mind
Always there, sometimes teasing,
Pretending to disappear,
Just waiting for an unwary moment
In the mind to spring, full-fledged.
It's time to let go of the worries.

Aholiab said...


I learned that driving lessons are much better done by professionals than by Dad. So much less drama!

Letting Go

The polls had finally closed. He silenced the television with a click of the remote and sat back in his office chair pondering the two index cards on his desk. Each contained notes for the announcement that he would be making depending on the outcome. Now, with the results confirmed, he was still considering the nuances he wished to express.

“I’m pleased to announce...”

“I am honored to let you know...”

As he rose from his desk, he evaluated his feelings. There was a sense of satisfaction, but not elation. The campaign had been long, and he was relieved that it was over. The pundits on both sides would be evaluating every move that had been made for months or years, trying to determine where advantages had been gained and lost. Straightening his tie, he left the office and followed the hallway to the private residence in the opposite wing.

Glancing again at his index card, he knocked quietly but firmly on the door. He waited a moment and then looked into the face of the occupant when the door opened. With the formality that the meeting demanded he said, “Mr. President, it is my duty to inform you that we are letting you go.” He stepped aside to allow the three heavily-armed soldiers who accompanied him to enter the room.

Marc said...

Greg - I just wanted to get to November without snow, but apparently that was too much to ask.

'Charles nodded approvingly, and she hated herself a little more' - absolutely love that line :D

Writebite - couldn't agree with this more.

Morganna - aye. Past time, really.

Aholiab - hah, I can imagine :)

Great details and atmosphere in this one. And your ending definitely caught me off guard.