I open my arms, release the tension in my shoulders and breathe. A small space expands in my chest and I breathe again. Slowly, more deeply, I inhale the quiet air around me. I turn my palms outward – letting go just a little bit, knowing there is more to release. What I hold on to isn’t mine to hold, I don’t need it. It has a grip on me, and it doesn’t serve me at all. Breathe again, Diane. Why do I think that I must carry worries around on my shoulders? It is pointless, it’