The topic at hand is letting go.
Easy peasy.
We get upset,
we realize we’re holding too tight—
and we get over it…
We let it go.
(That’s the theory. In practice?
We write a whole Taylor Swift breakup album about our grudge—
Then we white-knuckle that bad boy like it’s Halloween candy.)
(Self-care, but petty. Namaste.)
No problem, right?
Well… maybe just one.
Here’s the thing—
Letting go doesn’t require a reason.
You don’t need to fix the feeling.
You don’t need to make sense of it.
You don’t even need to understand it.
You just need to see it—
and not grip.
The body tightens.
The mind begins to spiral.
You notice.
You allow.
You reset.
Letting go isn’t something you do.
It’s something you stop doing.
A de-clenching.
A single beat of stillness.
A glance inward.
Again and again,
until it’s no longer an effort.
Letting go of nothing in particular
lets go of everything.
Universally.
Without exception.
In time, you will learn to see it coming—
the urge to grasp,
the reflex to grip—
before it happens.
There is always just one problem:
grasping.
And only one solution:
letting go.
(So now, if someone tells you to “get a grip,” nod—
and immediately let go.)
Not by force.
But by grace—
all within a knowing glance.
The gesture bypasses the story.
But what is your willingness to practice?
And how quickly are you willing to turn to it?
It’s two parts mastery, one part faith:
Nothing you hold will save you.
(Except handrails. This isn’t the circus. Use handrails.)
Letting go doesn’t happen after attachment.
It happens instead of it.
And when you sense yourself wanting to grip again?
That’s okay.
Notice.
Soften.
Let it go—
again and again.
One problem.
One solution.
Namaste.
(For real this time.)
