We spend our lives believing that we are holding something in our hands — a job, a relationship, an idea of ourselves. We say: “I am the one who decides.” But if we pause for a moment, if we truly observe, we discover that everything happens by nature. We breathe without thinking, our hearts beat without command, our cells divide, age, and die. Even our thoughts — which we take to be so personal — arise on their own, fed by memory, language, and experience.
What, then, does it mean to “let go”
or “surrender”? It is not to flee from life, nor to abandon all action. It is
to recognize that we are not the absolute masters of what we call “ourselves.”
It is to act, but without clinging, without the illusion of total control.
Consider a few examples. You want to
control your body: you exercise, you eat well. Yet an accident or illness may
change everything. You want to control others: a friend, a child, a partner.
But sooner or later you discover that each lives according to their own nature
— no one can be possessed. Even your own mind resists you: you say “I will
stay calm,” and emotion rises despite you.
Attachment is like the parable of
the bear. A man once found an abandoned cub. Out of love, he held it close. The
cub grew. What had been tenderness became a burden. One morning the man awoke
trapped in an embrace too strong — the animal, now massive, was crushing him
without intending to. So it is with our desires and possessions: what we
believe we are holding eventually ends up holding us.
But letting go is not losing. On the
contrary, it is regaining space, freedom. The rich, the powerful, the beautiful
cling desperately to wealth, to image, to youth — and in that struggle, they
lose peace. The one who knows how to surrender, who understands that everything
passes, rediscovers a simpler joy: to love without possessing, to act without
clinging to outcomes, to live without fighting against the natural flow of
things.
Philosophies and traditions have
repeated this for centuries: Buddhism speaks of non-attachment, Taoism of
harmony with the flow, Stoicism of accepting what lies within or beyond our
control. Even modern psychology invites us to loosen our grip on the obsession
with control and to act instead in line with our deepest values.
And how to practice this? Begin with
small things: resist the urge to correct everything in a conversation. Do your
duty at work, then accept that the result no longer belongs to you. Watch a
wrinkle appear and smile at this sign of life, rather than fight it as an
enemy.
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