All morning I've been wanting less. I want to weigh less, spend less, own fewer things.

But wanting less feels awfully similar to wanting more. Almost exactly.

This morning, imagining a wave of desire to buy or eat something, I pictured that desire as something held fast in my hand, like the rope of an anchor. If I just open my hand, let go the rope, the anchor sinks out of sight. Holding the rope tightly is a choice. Wanting to hold the rope is the issue.

Wanting to let go is another issue, another struggle. It's me tossing and turning with a decision.

But then there's simply letting go, opening my hand, releasing that rope of desire in such a way that it does not burn me as it rushes away. Letting go begins maybe not with wanting to let go but with the simple act of opening the hand, the act of opening.

I like that: opening. Fingers unclasping. Fist becoming a hand again. Tension dissipating. Effortless. Easy. Loose.

There are times to hang on tightly, but those are few and far between. Times of opening are much more common in the life that I want to be leading.