I love the internet, I must confess now. I've closed my Facebook account, and since that I've been having more time doing useful websurfing, and the internet is one humongous ocean. It's a powerful tool, too. You can ask anything and it will give you answer, even for something very specific like letting go.
If you typed "how to let go" on Google search, you'll get 124 million results, ranging from articles to videos. And seriously, a lot of people have difficulty with this because according to one site, "letting go is one of the hardest lessons in life."
Letting go is one of the skills I constantly learn because I think I'm actually naturally clingy (Gosh, Stephen King's going to be very cross with me for using two adverbs in a row). My mum managed to make me independent physically and mentally, but I have that tendency to stick to something or some people (that's why I only collect very few close friends), and I've been avoiding this all my life. People can be very disappointing and they can make you go nuts if you cling to them, and things change all the time so if you want to build stability, you should be a place to cling on, not the other way around. And I like stability. Stability is good. Stability is comforting.
But since I found my vocation, it gets harder to let go, especially if I'm doing a project that has a great cause. Like my Toulouse project.
Now let me tell you a bit about this project. After last year's camp, I was sitting next to my good-cellist friend Damien Ventula, who was also the faculty artist of that year, during the closing concert. We were watching one of the best performance that night, and suddenly he said, "We really should fly these people to Europe, make them study well. They love to play, and they want to learn, so we should give them a chance."
Afterward, we made a sketch and a picture was formed and the plan was: we're going to try to bring four alumni of the camp to Toulouse, his home town, to study. He's thinking of all the smart scheme and I'm to help with the preparation. We were not to say anything until he can fix something there, and when he gave me the green light, I got in touch with Fantastic Four and told them the great news.
They were ecstatic, and seeing their unbelieving, surprised, but happy faces, I was even more ecstatic. I started to plan fundraising concerts and everything and dreaming about the day when I would say goodbye to them at the airport. It's going to be a story that ends happily ever-after.
At first, I was happy to help. I was joyful. I was enjoying all those hours when we would rehearse at night then eat brownies and ice cream and talk and joke and dream about days bright and beautiful in Toulouse. I was sitting like a proud mama during the fundraising concerts, texting people so they would come to the concert (like a freakish, overly-ambitious mother), and all other things I could think about.
In the meantime, unconsciously, I became too attached to this project, and to the people. And again, people can be disappointing.
Two weeks ago we received news from D. He said we can go through the conservatory, but after I checked, the admission is in September, which means they only have 2 months to prepare themselves for audition.
Reality bites: From the two fundraising concerts, they only have about E500 which will be enough only for enrolment to the conservatory. Unless they want to bike to Europe, sure, they can go. Their French is almost zero, and they don't have anything to play for their future teachers nor for the audition.
In short: they're a joke.
At that point it hit me that all of them are still seeing the situation with rose-coloured glasses. They are holding on to hopes and dreams and sheer dumb luck, but none of them are really preparing themselves and none of them are really aware that they need to work hard for this cause. They didn't even try hard enough to sell tickets so they can collect enough money to finance their own education. And at that point, I know that I had to let go, so they can grow. As much as I love them and this project, I know that this is the moment when they need to take their fate in their own hands.
There's a good quote on one of the page I visited, by an unknown author. It said, "There are things that we never want to let go of, people we never want to leave behind. But keep in mind that letting go isn't the end of the world. It's the beginning of a new life." I took a deep breath, and let go, as I wrote this. I hope this isn't the end of the world for them. But I know for sure it will be a new life for me.
