The Art of Letting Go
“Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.”
In the grand design of our lives, letting go is an art that acknowledges our strength and invites life’s natural flow. When we stop grappling with outcomes, we make room for surprises, sometimes far better than what we had planned. Letting go isn’t defeat; it’s an act of quiet triumph that fosters growth, new opportunities, and the space to become truly victorious.
As an architect, I’m used to planning every detail, ensuring each element is precisely placed to align with the greater vision. And yet, I’ve learned that not everything in life can be controlled so precisely.
For years, I believed that tightly gripping every aspect of my world, whether parenthood, business ventures, or personal relationships, was the key to success. If I lost my tight grip, I feared the entire structure of my life would collapse. But the reality is that letting go doesn’t make you weak; it grants you the freedom to rediscover your innate resilience. I’ve seen this truth play out repeatedly in my role as a father. You can’t micromanage a child’s journey to independence. You equip them with values and support, but eventually, you must stand back as they explore their own paths. In letting go, you give them space to test their wings.
As an entrepreneur, I’ve started ventures that demanded more from me than I ever imagined. Yet, the moment I allowed myself some distance to acknowledge I’d done my best and that certain outcomes weren’t entirely under my control was the moment I found clarity. Instead of anxiously forcing a fit, I could pivot gracefully. It felt like exhaling after holding my breath for too long.
Letting go is also about forgiveness of ourselves and others. When we cling to past mistakes, regrets, or resentments, we’re essentially anchoring ourselves to stagnant waters. We can’t sail toward a brighter horizon when we’re dragging emotional baggage. Acceptance and forgiveness helped me channel that energy into survival, and eventually growth. With time and perspective, each past struggle and every regret became a lesson, not a liability.
It’s a paradox: the more tightly we hold on, the more likely we are to break under pressure. But if we surrender the need to control every variable, we remain flexible, able to bend without snapping. That adaptability is the cornerstone of resilience, be it in architecture, parenting, or building meaningful relationships.
[Hesse, Hermann. Wanderung: Aufzeichnungen. S. Fischer Verlag, 1920. German translation varies by edition.]