Surrender

You already know control is an illusion. You learned it. You paid for it.

And here you are, knuckles white, doing it again.

Nobody warns you that the lesson does not stay learned. The illusion overrides your memory, every time, and you grip like it is the first day you ever met the problem.

It is reflex. Something slips, you squeeze. It feels like strength. Usually it is fear with better posture.

Some things respond to force. Most do not. A man who holds everything the same way is not disciplined. He is scared — or he is a man who knew better once and let the knowing rot.

Strength has two moves. When to grip. When to open the hand.

You cannot receive anything while you are trying to stronghold the world.

So most days you shutter the citadel. Nothing gets in, including what you needed most. Gifts get left at the doorstep of a man too busy to answer the door.

You never even see them.

And faith. How is faith exercised if you never give it room to show up? A man who controls everything has left it nothing to do. He crowded it out with his own hands.

So loosen up. Not everything. Not always. But know when.

And when you forget again — because you will — remember faster.

"Fate leads the willing and drags the unwilling." — Seneca