Welcome to the Commian podcast. This is Jeff Krasno.

How many of you may receive my weekly Sunday commusing article, where I address a breadth of issues

from the spiritual to the sociopolitical. And on occasion, I will also record an audio

version of these articles and release it here

as a bonus episode. So life is full of goodbyes, both temporary and permanent. And you don't have to be

apparent to experience difficult validictions, but if you are, then this time of year is particularly

sodden with the tears of farewell. My daughter, Phoebe, is moving far, far away after 18 years

in loving residence. Now, I don't want to over-dramatize it. She'll be back for Christmas soon enough,

but will we ever again share the same address? I don't know. Today's episode waxes

alternately poetic and pathetic on the topic of letting go.

Now, if you like what we do here at Commune, please subscribe to this podcast and get a free trial of commune membership at onecom slash trial.

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across nutrition, yoga,

mindfulness, regenerative agriculture, and much more. So without further delay, here's

today's episode titled Letting Go. 18 years ago to this very day, my eldest daughter, Phoebe, was born in the front room of our summer cottage on Long Island Sound.

It was an unusually blustery day, the clouds low, dark, and pregnant.

Normally, the rickety old house emptied out on summer days. People found their air conditioning

by jumping off the end of the jetty and into the

cold sea. But the day's squall penned the family indoors. Skyler labored courageously as her mother,

the midwife and I, busied ourselves, hopping in and out of the inflatable birthing tub,

pressing deeply into her lower back and boiling more water. In the adjoining room, the family, who had assembled

for the birth, drank rumdums and tapped their toes. Skyler's grandfather, Ellsworth, smoked

...