We’ve all heard it at some point. “Just let go”. The plan, the winless argument, the old relationship that grates on you and even the version of you that got you to where you are now. The line repeats in the books, retreats and so on - they all tell you to let go. But here’s the thing - I’ve always had a problem with it.
I don’t have a problem with the principle of it. I get it. Holding a clenched fist around something is rigid and restrictive. But it’s the term that I find uncomfortable - ‘Letting go’.
It felt somehow adrift. Like releasing the anchor of a ship in an ocean. What now? We’re supposed to just float and move around according to the ocean currents? What about the astronaut who is untethered in space? Well, we can admire the view for so long but ultimately we’ll soon run out of air and be a long way from anywhere, so we’re going to need that connection back. Did somebody get that? Over. Are you reading me? Over.
OK I’m being flippant. But let’s give it some context.
When I was a young man full of ideas and wonder, I got into Edward De Bono and the concept of lateral thinking. It was the fuel that launched my lifelong exploration of possibilities, connections and endless opportunities.
That journey of exploration was never idly drifting in an ocean. Even when I lay there on my Lilo in the middle of a new sea, admiring the view, because I had a purpose.
Let’s bring that notion into sharp relief. Mindfulness.
I don’t see mindfulness as ‘Letting go’ of thoughts because it requires presence, not absence. You are purposefully present to highlight that your awareness is a choice that you can select. It has direction.
Instead of ‘release the anchor’, we could set sail towards a point with an open mind to welcome what comes up on the horizon in all directions and whatever weather brings us. I don’t like the word miracles because, well, we drift into all the hijacked Kumbayah meanings. But what we actually do is to set sail and leave room for miracles to happen.
In 1500 Pedro Álvares Cabral’s fleet was sailing towards India to secure lucrative trade relations in the spice trade when it reached Brazil. He then claimed it for Portugal. Not too bad!!
Side note — what do you prefer?
Literary precision and a perfectly symmetrical essay? Or the slightly untidy tales of a captain who has actually sailed the seas? Personally, I like to feel the weather.
So the closed fist of a rigid pursuit doesn't just fail to seek the miracle; it fails to recognise one when it's standing right in front of it. The open hand then is not about being adrift, it is about extending your range.
Some will say the point is not to let go, but to release your attachment to the outcome. Fair enough. I’m more interested in what happens next because I prefer activation.
I believe ‘Letting go’ should be reframed in this context. Our language should imply agency, direction and participation. We’re not just removing the shackles that keep us locked down, we are effectively freeing us up towards new movement.
We don’t just cut ourselves loose. We raise the anchor and move. We don’t just let go, but extend out and we don’t just leave the old identity behind, but move into a fuller expression.
Instead of ‘Letting go’ let’s widen the field, open new ground and extend our range.
So let’s raise the anchor, set sail towards a destination and leave room for the weather to surprise us.
