Sometimes we look at life and wonder, “What does the past have to do with the future?” We chase outcomes and expectations, attaching meaning to things that may never come, or if they do, might come differently than expected. We plan, prepare, and hope for something specific to happen. But what does this effort really mean? Why do we invest so much emotional energy in these outcomes, especially when life often unfolds in ways we can’t predict?
Take a moment to consider: What if the things you’re waiting for never arrived? What if the effort you’ve invested didn’t yield the results you expected? Would life still move forward? Of course it would. But would you? It’s our minds that cling to outcomes, as if the fulfillment of certain desires or goals somehow validates our existence.
This desire for control, for things to go a certain way, can become a source of suffering. When we tie ourselves to specific outcomes, we set the stage for disappointment. If life doesn’t align with our plans, we might feel as if something has gone wrong. But is that really the case? Or is it simply life unfolding as it always does, indifferent to our expectations?
It’s tempting to believe that by doing our best, by striving and pushing, we can make things happen exactly as we want. We enter a never-ending cycle of “doing our best,” chasing the next goal and the next, convinced that fulfillment lies just around the corner. But the sky is limitless, and so is this cycle. When one goal is reached, another appears, and then another. There is no end to this striving.
But what if we stopped striving? What if we let go of the belief that happiness is tied to outcomes? What if we allowed life to simply unfold, trusting that whatever happens is meant to happen?
The phrase “meant to be” often feels like a platitude, something we say to console ourselves when things don’t go our way. But what if it wasn’t just a consolation? What if life really does flow in the way it’s meant to, regardless of our intervention? When we trust this flow, we release the need to control, and with it, the tension and anxiety that comes from trying to make life bend to our will.
This doesn’t mean we stop acting. Action is a part of life, but there’s a difference between acting from a place of tension and acting from a place of peace. When we act from peace, we are no longer trying to force an outcome. We do what feels right in the moment, and then we let go, trusting the result to unfold as it will. In this way, we align ourselves with the natural flow of life rather than resisting it.
What does this letting go look like in practical terms? It’s not about giving up or resigning ourselves to inaction. It’s about releasing the emotional attachment to outcomes, recognizing that no matter what happens, we are still okay. It’s about realizing that life isn’t about achieving specific goals, but about experiencing each moment fully, without the constant need for more.
When we begin to let go, we start to notice the quiet undercurrent of peace that has always been there. It was simply hidden by our striving. This peace is not something we achieve; it’s something we uncover. It’s always been within us, waiting for us to stop chasing and notice it.
As we relax into this peace, we may feel a sense of relief, as if a burden has been lifted. The burden of needing things to be a certain way. The burden of constantly striving. When this burden is gone, we are free to experience life as it is, without judgment or resistance.
And so, the question arises: If there’s nothing to strive for, what is the purpose of life? This is where the mind often becomes uneasy. The mind likes to think in terms of purpose and meaning, of goals and achievements. But when we step beyond the mind, we see that life itself is the purpose. There is no need to impose meaning on it; life is meaningful simply because it is.
This is a subtle but profound shift. It doesn’t mean we stop doing things or that we lose interest in the world. Quite the opposite. When we are no longer driven by the need for outcomes, we become more present, more engaged with the world around us. We see life not as a series of tasks to complete but as a rich, unfolding mystery to experience.
In this space of openness, life becomes lighter. The pressure to make things happen dissolves, and we are free to enjoy the journey, wherever it takes us. And in this freedom, we find joy—not the fleeting joy of achievement, but a deeper, more enduring joy that comes from being in harmony with life itself.
There will still be times when the mind questions this. There will still be moments when old patterns of thinking arise, pulling us back into the cycle of striving. But with practice, these moments become less frequent, and when they do arise, we are better equipped to see them for what they are—just thoughts, passing through like clouds in the sky.
Over time, this perspective becomes our new way of being. Life flows, and we flow with it, no longer bound by the need for things to be different. We act when action is called for, but we do so without attachment. And in this space, we find a deep and abiding peace.
