The Art of Letting Go: A Story of Small Surrenders

I used to get caught on the tiniest things. If someone looked at me the 'wrong' way, I carried it in my body for hours. If plans shifted suddenly, I felt like life was unraveling. If the dishes sat too long in the sink, I tightened inside as though their presence meant something about me.

The truth was—I wasn’t really bothered by the dishes, or the unexpected changes, or the sideways glance. What weighed on me was the way I gave them power. I let these small pebbles trip me on the path, as if they were boulders blocking my way. And it was exhausting.

The Moment I Noticed

One morning, I woke already heavy. My list of tasks loomed, the house wasn’t in order, and my mind felt cluttered before I had even moved from bed.

I walked into the kitchen to see dishes still piled in the sink. My chest tightened, frustration rose, and the old familiar story whispered: You’re already behind. You can’t keep up. Don’t even bother trying.

But something different stirred in me that day. I paused. I asked myself: What if this doesn’t actually matter? What if I could lay this down, right now? What if I did my work without the dishes being done first?

I took one deep breath. And in that pause, I felt the smallest shift. The dishes didn’t vanish. The tasks didn’t disappear. But the weight I was giving them loosened. I could see them for what they were: just dishes, just tasks, not measures of my worth.

That was the first taste of freedom I found in surrender.

Why We Cling to the Small Things

Looking back, I realize I held onto these small irritations because they gave me something to control. It felt easier to fume about the mess in the sink than to sit with the deeper truth—that what I really needed was rest, or gentleness, or permission to not have everything figured out.

We cling because our minds want to hold on, to manage, to fix. But the more we cling, the heavier we become.

Flower in the forest, surrendering. Photographed by Monika Dawn.

The Practice of Letting Go

Letting go didn’t happen overnight. It became a practice, one I still return to daily.

Here’s how it began to unfold for me:

Pause and Breathe,

instead of reacting right away, I practiced taking one conscious breath. That pause reminded me that I had a choice: to spiral deeper into the story, or to release it.

Ask the Bigger Question,

I learned to ask: Will this matter in six months, a year? Almost always, the answer was no. That simple question became a compass pointing me back to what truly mattered.

Ritualize Release,

sometimes I wrote my irritations down and burned them, letting the smoke rise as a symbol of surrender. Other times I whispered them into the wind or let the ocean carry them away. Ritual gave my nervous system permission to soften.

Listen to My Body,

I began noticing where I held tightness when I refused to let go—my jaw, my shoulders, my belly and bum. Releasing those places became a physical prayer of trust.

What Surrender Opened

When I loosened my grip on the insignificant, I felt clarity rise. The parts of me that had been buried; the creative, the playful, the wise, began to come through again.

Instead of spending my energy on the small, I had space for the sacred.

Space for my work, my relationships, my healing, my spirit.

Peace didn’t arrive with fanfare. It came quietly, like a soft undercurrent moving beneath everything. But that current steadied me, and it keeps steadying me still.

I’ve come to see that letting go is not a loss, it’s a homecoming.

Each small surrender is a way of returning to myself.

Now, when irritation tries to hook me, I remind myself: not everything deserves my energy. Some things are meant to pass through like wind in the trees.

And when I let them go, I walk lighter, freer, more whole.

Because surrender is not weakness. It is strength softened into trust.

It is the art of knowing I don’t have to carry it all

because what is truly mine will always remain.

May you find the courage to loosen your grip and the grace to be carried by what truly matters.

xoxo Flower