Tug of War was always a big deal at my sleep-away camp.  It was a full evening’s activity.  Every division picked their strongest people, staking their biggest and strongest person at the end, sometimes standing inside a huge rope loop, ready to pull us to victory.  I was never the anchor, thankfully. That may have scarred my already fragile self-image, but there were definitely times where I painted my face, wrapped my hair in bandanas, rolled one leg of my jeans (same one as everyone else, because we wore costumes for some reason for these tugs of war – I have a picture of my sister inexplicably dressed as a nun for tug.  It was a Jewish overnight camp), chalked my hands and grabbed that rope.

For anyone who’s ever partaken of some tug of war, there is always the option to drop the rope.  There’d be rumors that perhaps the opposing team was planning on dropping the rope, which would send us flying.  I keep thinking about this notion of dropping the rope.  What else happens when you drop the rope? You can relax.  Your shoulders aren’t being pulled out of their sockets, your hands aren’t hardening with calluses, and your muscles aren’t clenched and burning with lactic acid.  For me, the idea of dropping the rope seems to lead to a feeling of relief.

This morning I thought about what it would feel like if I committed to letting go of the rope.  To “moving freely.” Just the idea of it, just entertainment of the notion of moving freely filled me with relief.  I move freely.  I drop the rope.  I let go.

It’s hard to let go of some things – especially things you want really badly.  So I search for evidence of areas of my life in which I’ve been able to let go in the past.  I used to really be obsessed with weight loss.  I had been a Weight Watcher since high school.  I found Weight Watchers meetings in Washington, DC when I was in college.  I went for years in Manhattan as well.  One day, after another tearful turn at the scale, I plain decided I was done.  I didn’t have a lot of weight to lose.  I could lose five pounds, seven, ten, maybe.  And I was standing there crying over the number on the scale.  I am not fighting that number any longer, I thought.  I walked out of there and I knew I’d never go back.  I stopped weighing myself altogether.

I dropped the rope.

And that’s when I started achieving a modicum of peace.  I started having more fun at the gym.  I started trying different things and made sure I felt good, as opposed to judging my success by a number on a scale.  And I’ll say, I’ve never looked (or felt!) better!

So, in other areas of my life, in places where I’ve done everything I can do, where the time has come to stop pulling, I drop the rope.

Because others cannot vibrate in your experience, they cannot affect the outcome of your experience. They can hold their opinions, but unless their opinion affects your opinion, their opinion matters not at all. A million people could be pushing against you and it would not negatively affect you unless you push back. That million people pushing against you are affecting their millions of vibrations. They are affecting what happens in their experience. They are affecting their point of attraction, but it does not affect you unless you push against them.

— Abraham