Letting go is not throwing away

By Pearl Wong

When I was in middle school, my mother would send me to Buddhist temple camps for a few weeks every summer. Although she was not very religious, she thought I needed some exposure to Buddhism. Her strategy did not work. I twisted myself away from religion for the first three years of my high school career.

I rationalized myself into thinking that God, Allah, Yahweh and Buddha did not exist. I was completely wrong.

Youth allows us all -- yes, even at the age of 20, which is not so old -- to believe we are invincible, independent and have complete knowledge of the complex workings in the world. After my miniature enlightenment, I thought my journey with God was personal and private. I did not want to share my beliefs with others because I did not want to seem as though I was trying to convert people.

Even now, I am not entirely sure how deeply I want to delve into my spirituality with someone else.

Presently, I can confidently say that sharing is interesting. I recently attended a Zen meditation retreat with Professor Sarita Tamayo-Moraga. The theme was "A Day of Mindfulness," and I was so interested that I decided I had to go even if it meant sharing.

Besides new freshmen, we all understand the inconvenient pressures of our quarter system and the ugly face of midterms that explode in the middle of fourth week. Upon my arrival in September, I felt a sense of urgency, a type of carpe diem mood in which I had to do and accomplish something in every aspect of my life.

I do not want to exaggerate, but after my retreat the feeling has subsided substantially. It is not so much laziness as acceptance. Throughout the retreat, I was constantly reminded to be both alert and relax, to watch the present play out and articulate my current feelings in my head. I found how unsettling it was to think about the future constantly -- it was like an obsession.

I was proud of my gung-ho time management. I needed to feel organized and prepared.

Somehow, focusing on the present rather than the future gives me more freedom and control. Instead of compulsively scheduling my entire week, I start to ask myself, what do I want to do right now? What am I feeling and what can I do about it now?

Obviously, this leads to a treasure hoard of pristine textbooks waiting to be read and wrinkled homework tapping impatiently for the finish line. And yet my innate motivational drive does not automatically kick in. I just want to breathe with my stomach and take a long walk somewhere. Certainly, I still manage to get all my work done; I am an ambitious and driven person. But that is not all I want to be.

I suppose we all transform in such a fashion through different means. Letting go of the mysterious future can be complicated, but to let go is not to toss away.

For me, letting go is simply shifting my focus towards what lies in front of me.

Pearl Wong is a sophomore economics major.