Letting Go

Letting Go, Remembering, Holding On
"Remembering that which our soul once beheld" (Plato)
Some people want to let go; others have to. If you search the internet for both these topics, a whole little universe of information, books, blogs and trivialities opens up.
Letting go is in demand and very much in vogue. Shamans, psychotherapists and authors feel called upon to answer the many questions and to take the edge off the fear of letting go. The good news is that anyone who wants to let go is not alone; and, if push comes to shove, simply have a cup of tea ("with a floral, lemony flavour and a light, refreshing taste"), attend a yoga class and practise the hip-opener (to gain clarity on 'why, what and, above all, how') or take the 'Letting Go Vibrational Essence', which is sold by a monastery estate.
I myself experienced letting go in the form of intense perception – with my eyes, with the camera, but above all emotionally. It is not only a glance that can be penetrating, but feelings too. And when one then succeeds in translating that into images, one has come a step closer to the goal of 'letting go' and the process of holding on can begin.
To capture and record something with the camera, one must first see it. Every act of seeing can also be a reunion. But only if something or someone has already spoken to us, seen us, and been able to strike a chord within us. This is what happened to me with oven gloves, coffee mugs, postcards, handwritten recipes, tools, furniture, clothes and, last but not least, photographs.

Ultimately, however, letting go also means remembering. The Italian word for this is 'ricorda', which is derived from 'returning to the heart'. My camera made this possible for me, and I found that immensely comforting when my parents passed away.