The Joy of Letting Go
Letting go is not getting rid of anything. It is not pushing anything away. It is simply releasing our stranglehold on the things to which, in existential panic, we cling. Our gripping and appropriation cause pain for ourselves, as well as for the object of the gripping, which is strangled and imprisoned by our projections. We don’t see the things we grip to; we see our idea of them.
We grip, cling, and identify with things we want, of course. But we also cling to things we disdain, as if we have come to want things we don’t want. Though we are holding on for very different reasons, the result is the same. We have forged an identification with something we hold too closely to see.
Letting go doesn’t mean getting rid of anything. It’s not self-denial, nor a denial of that which we’re holding. It’s simply releasing our relentless struggle to hold things in place. This release not only eases tension, but also creates the space for clarity. We love more deeply when we allow the things we love to be themselves.
Attachments are often the boogeyman in Buddhist thought, but this is not because what we attach to is necessarily problematic. It’s because attachment creates a stickiness that keeps us from moving through situations with ease. We get stuck, as Pema Chödrön would say.
That sticky quality of mind—our attempt to appropriate what we see and hold it in place—serves to keep us emotionally tethered. The things we cling to keep us from seeing alternatives. If we have the openness and bravery to experience life as it is, rather than clinging to what we like and pushing away what we don’t, our world becomes three-dimensional.
The primary binary—like/don’t like—reduces life to a two-dimensional experience. Some people find that more manageable. This is my reference point. This is who I am. I will always love this person. I will forever be the one loving you. But in truth, the things we hold can trap our mind in cycles we never grow beyond.
Who are we without the things we cling to? Who would we be without the tethers we create—the things we think will save us?
Whether we see it or not, life is carrying us down the river of space and time toward a final waterfall we will never navigate. We are all final girls in this horror show. But along the way, we navigate what we can. And if we let go into the beauty and the tragedy of existence, we may find peace along the way. And when the time comes, perhaps we will choose to be present for our final letting go.
If we understand that—if we truly feel it—there is great power in this moment of being. We don’t need to grasp at the reeds along the riverbank. We don’t need to pick up a cigarette out of fear. We don’t need to hold our children so tightly that they cannot grow into who they are.
To live a life of openness, we need to develop the bravery to open. This is more natural than clinging, so when we open, it feels like a release—a return. We come back to openness. We can’t create openness; we can only open to it. On the other hand, we do create the blockages that keep openness at bay. When we move past the fear of letting go—of abandoning reference points that have shaped our identity—we may open into a sense of release. We may feel the real joy that comes to us naturally and is not a product of our control.
Letting go is not getting rid of anything. It is, in fact, accepting everything—allowing things to be as they are. Non-appropriation.
It’s like traveling to a foreign land and allowing the people we meet to be who they are, letting them enrich us through the simple act of encounter. We don’t need to turn everything into a trigger or a belief—something to wear and perform. We can let things be.
We can let animals live and roam—even destroy one another, if that is their nature—without needing to turn them into trophies. There is nothing brave about hiding in the bushes and killing an animal with a weapon it doesn’t have.
We are greedy. We want, and we want, and we want. That’s okay. The question is: can we stop grabbing? Can we stop harming? Can we stop appropriating?
I once asked an older student in a Dharma community where I was practicing, “Isn’t studying and practicing the Dharma also an attachment?” He said, “Yes—but it’s an attachment you can’t hold onto.”
The practice is to notice the impulse to grasp, recognize it, accept it as the habit of the mind, and then release it.
Learning to accept what is here as enough—and experiencing the joy in that.
A few precise suggestions (for your ear, not the page)
- Opening repetition (“Letting go is not getting rid…”)
You use it three times. It works as a refrain—but if spoken, consider leaning into it intentionally (slight pause each time) so it feels like structure, not repetition. - “Final girls in this horror show”
This is bold and contemporary. It will land—but it shifts tone. Decide if you want that tonal rupture (I think it works, but it’s a choice). - “We are greedy…” section
This is one of your strongest spoken moments. Consider a slight slowdown and emphasis—almost confessional. - Ending line
You might tighten the landing in delivery only:“Learning to accept what is here as enough…
and the joy in that.”
If you want next pass, we can do pure performance shaping—breath marks, pauses, emphasis—without changing a single word.