On Release and Closure

I’ve written a couple of posts in the last few days that really drive at some of the decisions and choices I’ve had to make in the past few weeks - and years if you want to be literal. My schedule continues to get more and more packed as the week goes by, but there’s something inside of me that really needs to get this one last sentiment out. So here it is.

It seems that so often, we find ourselves shipwrecked at the end of some voyage, be it personal, business, social, or some messy offspring of them. For the majority of my life, I’d say that I found myself trying to make reason out of things - seeking out a means to justify the results of that voyage. It was one particular voyage, however, that finally corrected my course.

Since the day I was born, I suppose, my father had quite high expectations for me. He was a successful entrepreneur but always wanted more for his two youngest sons. I was destined to be a doctor. I did all the motions in my attempts to satisfy his vision, but ultimately, I chose the road less traveled - the one often walled by isolation and disappointment, and pursued my current career path.

I can vividly remember my first approach to the problem - RUN. I can stil hear my older brother’s advice the night I called him contemplating just picking up and heading west. Naturally, he advised that I should just talk to Pops. Nonetheless, the fear of disappointing him was greater than that of leaving everything I knew. Ironically enough, though, it was my dad who conceded first. We were on the phone when he half asked me “So what are you thinking, you might not want to go?” I don’t know if he was giving me that opportunity or was just testing the edges, but I lurched towards it like the first morsel of sanity I had seen in years.

I’m sure I heard the sigh come from him in that moment. I remember, as well, my mom telling me how broken my dad was and the shame that fell on them with my decision. Yes, shame. They had made promises with my future and I let them down. It was something hard to reconcile. The over-achiever, straight A, scholarship son was a shame. A milestone, to say the least.

For the next few years, I worked furiously to prove that I had chosen the right path. Idea after idea, business after business - the only reward I sought was approval in their eyes.

In May of 1999, I got my break. Our small company had been approached for acquisition by a major automotive group. We were in talks with one of the largest providers of web sites to dealerships as well. I was close to cashing in and proving that I had done good. So close I could taste it.

In May of 1999, I was broken as well. The morning of the 18th, I rushed to the hospital, hours too late, unfortunately, to say goodbye to my dad. I can still hear the thoughts oscillating in my head as the car drove there “He’s strong, he’ll be fine. My God, he’s gone.” as I hid my tears from the cab driver. When I finally arrived in the room, to see him there in the bed, I was beside myself. Rattling in my mind is a thought that at least he knew I was about to make it - odd I thought at the time, but so natural now.

Later that month, the deal fell apart. Everything was lost. I spent more than enough months quite depressed that I had failed him, failed myself. I didn’t know how to settle the events, how to get closure and let my own life go on. I was lost.

Release and closure are related terms, but not one and the same in my book. Release is the act of letting go, closure is the result of that act. I’ll share a quote that came to me just today, as fate would have it:

It stems from the way traps were set for monkeys. A coconut was hollowed out through an opening that was cut to the size of a monkey's open hand. Rice was then placed in the carved-out fruit which was left in the path of the monkeys. Sooner or later, a hungry monkey would smell the rice and reach its hand in. But once fisting the rice, its hand could no longer fit back out through the opening. The monkeys that were caught were those who would not let go of the rice.

As long as the monkey maintained its grip on the rice, it was a prisoner of its own making. The trap worked because the monkey’s hunger was the master of its reach. The lesson for us is profound. We need to always ask ourselves, What is our rice and what is keeping us from opening our grip and letting it go?

My own release came in understanding the nature of closure. I think we often look for external sources for closure, but I’m convinced it can only come from within. I was in the situation where there would never be an answer, never a second opinion. If I could not uncover a way on my own, I would be trapped in the same prism. It was then that I released myself of the constraints. I chose, on my own, to not define myself in terms of my dad’s definitions. I chose, on my own, to accept the strengths and weaknesses I had - not the ones he perceived. I chose to release the rice.

In that moment, everything was different. I was at peace with my dad. I was at peace with our circumstance. I’ve been the same since then, some 7 years now.

This notion has applied in may other places since then, and I am sure it will continue to serve me going forward. Recently, we changed gears and focus with our company, literally shelving months of work and thousands of dollars to pursue what we knew was the right path. It was a difficult decision, but there was really no choice in the matter.

The question left to you all, now, is simple. What are you holding on to that should, could, must be released? What is your rice? What is holding your grip?