Letting go – what is it?
When the search becomes an inner journey
When what is now called spirituality began to open up within me in a whole new way, it was like a door - I didn't even know existed - suddenly opened. It wasn't something I was looking for before and it wasn't something I could explain - but it was real.
There was a depth there that called to me, a longing to understand what it was I was experiencing, what it meant and where it wanted to take me.
In my search for answers , a whole new language emerged.
Words, expressions and symbols that were used as if they were already self-evident. I wanted to understand them, not just repeat them. I wanted to know them from the inside, so that they could have real meaning for me.
It is human to seek meaning when something changes.
Longing itself carries a direction. When something begins to move deep within us, it is an invitation to listen more closely, to pay attention to what wants to manifest itself.
One of the expressions that came back to me often was:
“Let go.”
I carried a big, deep question mark about what it really meant. And far beyond theory and mantra, I needed a lived experience in my body and heart. Questions after questions swirled around in my mind, with no clear answer or path to follow.
What are you really holding onto?
Are they memories?
Interpretations?
Identities?
Roller?
Feelings that were once true, but no longer carry the same meaning?
And how does one do such a thing in practice – to let go – in the midst of real emotions, real relationships, real memories, and real lives?
It was as if the words pointed to something profound, but the path itself was silent.
For many years I carried a confusion that settled in both body and soul. I felt trapped in circumstances I didn't create, events that held me back even though I tried to move on. And maybe you're standing there now — wondering: How do you let go?
What letting go doesn't mean
When I first heard the expression “Let go” in the spiritual realm, in healing, I tried to understand it in my mind. I thought it might mean forgetting, stopping feeling, moving on, or closing the door to something that hurt.
But trying to force yourself not to feel, not to remember, not to long or not to care – that doesn’t create freedom but tension. It puts a lid on the heart and it makes breathing shorter, not deeper.
Letting go does not mean:
- turn off your emotions when it comes to what hurt you
- to forget something that was important
- pretending that something never hurt
- “forgive” before the body is ready
- force oneself to move on
- cut out parts of oneself or one's history
And it's not an achievement. It's not something you can decide in your head. It's not something you can force. If we try to let go before we fully understand what we're holding onto, the body feels it.
It says more or less quietly:
“Not yet.”
And it's not a failure.
That is wisdom.
It is certainly meant kindly when someone says “you need to let go.” It can come out of consideration, out of goodwill, out of a feeling of wanting to help.
But the words themselves do not show the way.
They don't tell you what you're holding on to, or how to let go of your grip. And when what feels strong inside doesn't get its place or its time, the words can almost feel empty – as if something important is lost between the lines.
Letting go cannot be urged. It cannot be ordered. It needs to grow from within, when the body is ready, when the heart has caught up with the thought, when the feeling has been allowed to exist and be heard.
And sometimes letting go is about something still:
to approach what we have long turned away from. To give it time, to dare to see what we previously have not been able to bring to light. It may be sides of ourselves that have been pushed aside. Old feelings that were never put into words. Memories that continue to speak, even when we thought we had moved on.
Letting go can begin the moment you are ready to look at your shadows – your traumas, your wounds – with presence, care, and recognition. To allow them to be there as part of our history, as something that has actually belonged to us.
When something is allowed to be seen, it is also allowed to begin to soften.
What it can mean to let go
So the first thing that became clear to me personally was that I didn't understand how to let go. I didn't know how to do it, where in the body it happens. Not when it should be. But over time I realized that letting go is not an action. It's not something we do.
It's something that happens when:
- What once hurt has been acknowledged.
- The feeling, the pain, the sadness has finally been allowed to exist
- history has taken its place
And suddenly we notice:
Something inside us no longer holds as tightly. Breathing goes a little deeper. There is more space inside.
It's not big. Nothing dramatic.
It's quiet.
When we grow together with our experiences
For many, it rarely begins with a big insight or a clear direction. More often, it begins with a curiosity, a feeling that something inside us is stirring and wants to be understood – even if we may not know what that means yet. It can feel like something is calling, but in a way so soft that it is almost just a whisper. And for some, it comes as a bigger impulse, almost like a nudge from within, saying: “look here”. It often comes first as a feeling, long before a truth or an answer is visible.
In the curiosity that follows, it becomes natural to seek contact with others who also feel, wonder and explore. Conversations are opened, relationships are formed, questions are shared. We try our hand, often with uncertainty about whether the steps are “right” or “wrong”. We learn by feeling, and the sentences that circulate around us – like “let go” – only become true when they have slowly been allowed to grow within ourselves.
Otherwise, the path can become fragile. Footholds can be lost. Doubts can grow. Emotions can surge that we are still searching for a way to face. It can feel like we are lost for a while.
But even that is ultimately part of the journey.
It doesn’t indicate failure — it indicates that something within is being reshaped. It takes time for the inside to rearrange itself, to understand what is old and what is new, to feel the difference between what belonged then and what belongs now. When that happens, it can feel uncertain — but uncertainty is often a transition, a place where the old has let go and the new is still waiting to take shape.
It is an open space.
A place where nothing needs to be rushed.
A place where the next step can grow on its own.
Sometimes we continue straight away, perhaps even too quickly, almost in the same breath. Other times we have time to stop, rest, or let something land before the next step comes.
The important thing is never the pace.
The important thing is rarely to understand everything.
The most important thing is that the movement remains.
That something in us continues to want to move forward, even when the steps are small.
Everything has its meaning in our personal paths.
Insights often only arrive afterwards. How letting go takes shape, how the phrase “letting go” is understood and how the process develops – it is something that grows from within. Everyone finds their way there on their own path, at their own pace.
Sometimes understanding comes much later, when the heart and body have caught up with the mind. When what we have been through has had time to sink in and weave itself together into something coherent. Then it feels like something has finally landed where it belongs.
Letting go is often a process of trying things out, slowly and carefully. Allowing thoughts, feelings and experiences to come together at their own pace, free from the pursuit of a quick answer. No one is expected to know the way from the start. The way becomes clear as it is lived.
It is through experience that something changes deeply. Through what has been felt in the body, far more than what has been thought in the mind. That is why it can take time.
It's not a delay — it's maturity.
A gentle ingrowth into what is true, step by step.
At least this is how I understand it today.
And understanding must continue to grow.
Just like me.
Just like you.
When presence leads
Approaching letting go is first and foremost about daring to be with what once hurt you. Hurt, wounded, shook you.
A gentle way to start is to become aware of the moment when something inside you tenses up – and let it be there, as it is – at its own pace and without demanding a response. As the tension is allowed to show, the breath can slowly find its way back.
Uncertainty also has a place here. Everything needs time before it is understood. The feeling comes first, the understanding later. The heart has its own rhythm, and it moves at a completely different pace than the mind.
If it feels supportive, you can, for example, place a hand on your chest or stomach in such moments.
Breathe in slowly.
Breathe out even slower.
Listen inwardly with your whole being, beyond the filter of thought.
This is where letting go begins — in presence, more than in action.
There are moments when inspiration comes from outside: through healing, various forms of therapy, conversations or courses.
The shift itself takes shape inside, often later. At the moment when the body is ready to soften and what has long been held tight is allowed to breathe for the first time with and within you.
Letting go is never something we force.
It happens.
When the time is right.
When there is space.
When something inside says: now.
A moment of silence
There are moments when something inside pulls back to catch up. As if the inner self needs the silence to hear itself again.
To feel, free from demands, free from resistance and at one's own pace.
In such moments, breathing can begin to change on its own, almost imperceptibly.
So that the body remembers the feeling of being able to breathe freely from tension.
And sometimes, in the midst of the simplest things, the words can come:
“I have to take it one day at a time.”
Like something still.
Like a natural movement inward.
Just as a soft gesture inwardly, saying that things can be as they are right now.
In the quiet space between inhalation and exhalation, what has been tense can begin to loosen.
Not completely — just carefully.
And at their own pace.
Just a little.
Enough to make it feel possible to be here.
And if you ever feel like your body wants to be involved a little more,
You can let it do it its own way.
Perhaps through a movement,
perhaps through a sigh,
or maybe by just staying a little longer.
There is nothing to do right.
There is nothing to be done.
Where everything can take shape in peace and quiet
There is nothing in you that needs to go away in order for you to move on. Feelings that still feel alive, memories that still speak, and parts of you that once protected something important, are allowed to remain. Everything that has existed in you has had a place, a meaning, and a time.
And there is no need to rush. There is no level you have to reach and no point you need to be at now. You can be right where you are, in the rhythm that is your own, in the process that is already happening within you.
What you are holding onto will begin to let go when it has been acknowledged and received. When it has been fully felt, when you have lived through it, and when it no longer demands to be held as tightly.
Letting go happens through stillness. It happens when the body is ready, when the heart has caught up, and when something inside slowly begins to soften.
It is a path that rarely moves forward in clear steps and directions. It is more like an inner movement that slowly settles into place, at a pace that is bearable.
Life continues to grow from within, as we let go of control and let it take the form it needs to take, right now.
And in that, a quiet whole can be found, like a soft certainty in the wordless:
That what is, can be here.
That what was, must have been.
That what comes, must come in its own time.
© by HerMine's
Last updated November 10, 2025
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