Letting go does not mean we don’t care,

it means we care wisely and unconditionally. 

Suggest to someone they “let go” and they’ll very likely think you’re telling them to stop caring. Clearly, that’s not what a Buddha would wish us to do.

By letting go, we don’t care less; we care more!

As someone recently described, it’s like having another presence between you and the person you are trying to help. It’s no longer just you—an expectation-ridden, self-oriented, willing but woefully inadequate ordinary being—standing before the person who desperately needs assistance. That presence serves as a buffer, a  magnifier, a helper.

In letting go as the Buddha taught, we find our ego, expectations, and viewpoints are filtered out. It’s as if all the “me” is eliminated from what is happening. As this occurs, our sincere wish to help, our empathy, and our limited wisdom are magnified.

And since we’re trying to practice as the Buddha taught, it’s as if we’re being assisted in our helping.

And we are.

Complete work on time, and, ideally, 

before it’s due. 

It’s happened to all of us.

Someone at work or in an organization we belong to fails to complete their assigned part of a joint project on time. Now it belatedly comes to us with a message that it’s up to us to get things back on schedule for the next deadline. Which is in six days. Including the weekend.

And so we work all day and into the night for the next several days, neglect our other jobs, frantically re-schedule prior commitments, and become frazzled. And extremely testy. Co-workers avoid us, and family members silently place our dinner on our desk then tiptoe out of the room.

Having gone through this ourselves, let’s not inflict it on others. This isn’t about better time management and not procrastinating, although they’re important.

It’s about respect—respect for those whose work follows ours. Respect for their time, their family, and all those we will inconvenience by failing to meet our responsibilities.

Reduce sensory craving 

by realizing “less is more.”  

A dozen or so years ago, I happened to see a TV program as the credits scrolled down the screen. I commented to the person I was working with online that the image on the screen moved. He hesitated, then cautiously explained, “It’s TV; things move.”

I assured him I remembered his salient bit of information, and, not to worry, I was talking about the swirling background. Apparently, mere words were no longer enough to hold our attention. We now required sensory stimulation every moment of our lives. And not just on TV and not just visually, but everywhere and of all our senses.

Worse, unable to calm our mind, we agitate it even more with increased amounts of stimulation.

What can we do? Stop devouring phenomena and, instead, view them gratefully. Allow your mind to settle, and find joy in simplicity. And begin to let go of attachments by realizing that, in many ways, by appreciating what we have, less truly is more.