Control can feel like strength, but often it’s just fear wearing armour. When I’m gripping tightly—trying to manage every outcome—I miss the quiet invitation of the present moment. Letting go doesn’t mean I stop caring; it means I stop pretending I’m the centre of the universe. I can choose my next faithful step, do the good in front of me, and release the rest. An open hand can’t clutch, but it can receive.
