Dear Cary - Dyan Cannon [123]
Something was changing, shifting, moving.
The next morning I played hooky from the group session and went into the game room. There were a number of books on the shelves and I chose one at random, looking for something fairly mindless to gaze at. This one was a picture book written for young people called Creatures of the Wild. I opened the book to a section on monkeys and started reading.
There was a story about how hunters caught monkeys. The hunters would go to the place where the monkeys lived and dig holes in the ground the length of the monkeys’ arms. They would place jars in the bottom of the hole and then jostle big sacks of nuts around as the monkeys watched them from above in the trees. Finally, the men would pour nuts into the jar at the bottom of the hole and leave.
The monkeys would see the nuts placed in the holes and would scurry down from the trees to get their share when the hunters had gone. But the hole was wider at the bottom than at the top, and with their fists clenched around the nuts, the monkeys couldn’t get their arms out. They had to let go of the nuts first. But unfortunately, they held on. So when the hunters came back, the monkeys were trapped. What monkeys loved more than anything was their freedom, but they’d sacrificed it for a few lousy nuts. All they had to do was let go, and they’d be free. But they held on.
Why did that strike such a chord in me? And then I realized that I was just like those monkeys. I was stuck. Really stuck, because I wouldn’t let go . . .
But I couldn’t let go, because I didn’t know how.
That afternoon, I had a session with Dr. James and I told him about the monkeys. He smiled. “What do you have to let go of?”
“I don’t know,” I answered.
“Think about it.”
I was quiet. “Okay, come to think of it, I don’t want to let go of anything.”
“Why not?”
“Well, at least the monkeys had their damn nuts to hold on to. If I let go, what will I hold on to?”
The doctor just looked at me expectantly.
“Doctor! I asked you a question! You infuriate me when I ask you a question and you don’t answer! You’re the smart one here. What will I hold on to if I let go?”
He just stared at me, not saying a word.
“I’ve lost everything,” I said. “Do you understand? There’s nothing to hold on to.”
“Think about it.”
“Damn it! What’s to think about? This stinking world doesn’t work! People make promises and break them. They get your hearts, then twist them and turn them until you’re on empty. Okay? Okay! I’ll let go of that. How’s that?” The words were boiling out of my mouth, and it seemed like I didn’t have anything to do with them.
“That’s a good start,” the doctor said. “What else?”
“I’ll let go of all of the hurt. I’ll let go of all of the pain. And I’ll let go of not wanting to help myself. And I’ll let go of him.”
“Him? Him who?”
“Him, Cary. And all of the hims that hurt me.”
There was a long pause and then the doctor said, “Good. Very good. So you see, Dyan, you do have the answer.”
“I do?”
“Yes. You let go of the pain and you hold on to the peace. When you let go of the hurt, it’s gone. When you loosen your hold on the sadness, joy takes its rightful place. Do you see that?”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“Okay, you asked me what you would have to hold on to if you let go, right? After you let go of all the things you just talked about, what you have to hold on to is a fresh new concept of yourself.”
I was very quiet.
“This is big, Dyan. Give it a chance.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Liberation Day
On a cool, breezy day in March, after picking up Jennifer from school, I noticed that the gas needle was falling into the empty zone, so we stopped at a Texaco. “Fill ’er up?” the attendant asked.
“Uh, just a second,” I said, counting the money in my wallet. “No, just five dollars, please.” Our pantry was completely empty and I still had to go to the market. There, Jennifer ran ahead of me, picking things out, as