Ramblings on the art of surrender.
Long ago, there was a widowed Chinese farmer. The farmer and his only son labored through the cold winds of winter and scorching rays of summer with their last remaining horse. One day, the son didn’t lock the gate of the stable properly, and the horse bolted away.
When neighbors learned what happened, they came to the farmer and said, “What a sadness this is! Without your horse, you’ll be unable to maintain the farm. What a failure that your son did not lock the gate properly! This is a great tragedy!”
The farmer replied, “I don’t know what this is, I can’t call it.”
The next day, the missing horse returned to the farmer’s stable, bringing along with it six wild horses. The farmer’s son locked the gate of the stable firmly behind all seven horses.
When neighbors learned what happened, they came to the farmer and said, “What happiness this brings! With seven horses, you’ll be able to maintain the farm with three of them and sell the rest for huge profits. What a blessing!”
The farmer replied, “I don’t know what this is, I can’t call it.”
The next day the farmer’s son was breaking in one of the wild horses. The son got thrown from the horse, fell hard on rocks, and broke his leg.
When neighbors learned what happened, they came to the farmer and said, “What a great sadness this is! Now, you’ll be unable to count on your son’s help. What a failure to break in the horse properly! What a tragedy!”
The farmer replied, “I don’t know what this is, I can’t call it.”
The next day, a general from the Imperial Chinese Army arrived to conscript all the young men of the village into the army. Their assignment was to fight on the front lines of a battle against a terrifying enemy of overwhelming force. The farmer’s son, because of his broken leg, was not taken.
When neighbors learned what happened, they came to the farmer and said, “What a great joy! Your son avoided facing certain death on the front lines of the battle. What a blessing!”
The farmer replied, “I don’t know what this is, I can’t call it.”
My hope is that by writing this out it’ll help me continue to let go and surrender, maybe it will for you too.
Letting Go is Not Giving Up
For most of my life I was taught to believe that a prosperous life hinges on sheer willpower, relentless planning, and unwavering control. That if I just work hard enough—and strategize every step—nothing can stand in my way. The irony is that rather than being a tool for success, it became its own obstacle, leaving me anxious, exhausted, and unfulfilled. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I realized the need for control was the root of my problems, and if I wanted to have different outcomes, I needed to change my approach.
I hated the idea of letting go. In my head, surrendering was giving up, throwing in the towel, and abandoning responsibility. I refused to let go of my desired outcomes as a result. But the thing about that is, having so much focus on the desired outcome, on preventing the undesriable ones, takes you out of the moment. I thought it would leave me with happiness and stability, instead I became depressed by the things I simply could not control.
But letting go doesn’t mean throwing in the towel or abandoning responsibility. Instead, it’s a conscious release of outcomes we cannot force. Think of it as recognizing where your influence ends and where life—or divine guidance—picks up. By letting go you free up mental energy. Constantly anticipating and controlling every possibility is draining and when you stop micromanaging the uncontrollable, you gain mental bandwidth for creativity, problem-solving, and genuine connection.
You also allow space for better outcomes. Sometimes, gripping tightly to one plan blinds you to unexpected opportunities. Letting go invites fresh possibilities, whether they’re new partnerships, career breakthroughs, or personal insights.
Don’t get me wrong, learning to let go for someone like me is not easy, planning is second-nature to me, and to this day surrendering feels like I’m swimming against the current.
Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.
Faith often conjures images of spiritual conviction or religious practice, but even if you’re not religious, having faith means believing there’s a larger rhythm at work—something beyond your individual control. It’s a mindset that shifts perspective. Instead of being trapped in worst-case scenarios, faith calls you to see the bigger picture. Temporary setbacks could be launching pads for growth, and not every result depends solely on your own efforts.
Faith also breeds resilience. People who lean on faith (whether in God, life’s inherent meaning, or a guiding principle) tend to bounce back faster from disappointments. When you trust there’s a purpose beyond the present challenge, failure no longer feels final. Abraham’s story is a hallmark of faith in the Old Testament. He leaves his homeland based on God’s promise, long before seeing any tangible evidence of blessing.
Faith often requires obedience before clarity—we step out even though we can’t see every detail. That doesn’t mean we’re taking a blind leap of course, but more like having confident trust in God’s (or the universe, or whatever else you believe in) character and promise, even when current evidence is incomplete. As a simple analogy, think about if you’ve ever loaned a friend or family member some money: assuming you’re able to sustain yourself and have the ability to help a loved one out, you’re probably not thinking twice about when they pay you back, because you trust them.
Planning and Preparedness: Balancing the Equation
While letting go is crucial for peace of mind, planning and preparedness does play a vital role in a fulfilling, prosperous life. It’s all about balance. Plan as a framework, not a straitjacket. Healthy planning involves setting goals, outlining steps, and anticipating potential obstacles. It gives you a roadmap to follow without being so rigid that every detour feels catastrophic. Of course you want to reduce avoidable stress, but you should also prefer adaptability over perfection. Effective planning includes the willingness to pivot if circumstances change. It’s the flexible middle ground between over-control (which leads to anxiety) and reckless “winging it” (which can lead to repeated crises). In short, you plan enough to feel prepared but remain open if new data arises.
The Prosperity Paradox
Interestingly, those who practice letting go and maintain reasonable planning often find more material and relational prosperity over time—not less. Why? They’re not paralyzed by fear. When you’re not trying to dominate every outcome, you’re bolder in your pursuits and more innovative in your approach—yet you’re still informed by a solid framework of preparation. They also build healthier relationships. Letting go of the need to control others fosters deeper trust and mutual respect. Meanwhile, wise planning can ensure that you’re not dumping last-minute chaos on people around you, thus creating a more harmonious environment.
Draw a clear line between where your effort matters—like honing your skills, budgeting, or preparing for big events—and where you must release the outcome (others’ decisions, market fluctuations, unexpected life events). Nurture a hopeful mindset. Whether through prayer, meditation, or reflective journaling, remind yourself daily that God (or the universe, or whatever you name it) isn’t out to sabotage you. Over time, you’ll see how both faith and wise planning often pave the way for unexpected and positive outcomes.
Faith doesn’t promise an obstacle-free journey—and planning doesn’t guarantee perfection. But together, they reframe missteps as lessons, not verdicts. With a balanced approach, every bump in the road becomes part of a larger learning curve.
That’s Easy for You to Say
But Faris, what about when genuinely traumatizing things do happen? You seriously going to tell me that I should just surrender, let go, and have faith when a homeless person tried to assault me and steal my money last week?
I struggled with my own understanding of faith for a very long time, and personally, I’ll always wrestle with God, but one of the hardest lessons to learn when letting go was understanding that bad things do happen to good people. This is what spurred my desire to control everything in the first place. Why? I don’t think I can give an answer that will satisfy everyone, but in trying to understand the tramautizing lessons from my own life and the lives of my family and friends, I think the best answer I can give is that they happen so the survivors can speak to the experience and establish what is truly wrong and should never be tolerated. What are the alternatives? To repeat the same cycle of abuse to others? To ignore your pain for the rest of your life and drown it with hedonism? You’re welcome to suggest a better reason, but this is the best one I’ve found.
Conclusion
Letting go and having faith aren’t evasions of responsibility; they’re powerful tools for living a more relaxed, resilient, and prosperous life. Combined with thoughtful planning and preparation, they create a holistic strategy that keeps you grounded without locking you into a rigid path. Instead of burning out by trying to orchestrate every detail, consider stepping back and trusting that life unfolds in ways you can’t fully script—while you do your part to be ready for the challenges and opportunities that arise.
The result is often a deeper peace, healthier relationships, and, paradoxically, more meaningful achievements. Sometimes, the real victory lies in recognizing the limits of control, embracing the strength of well-placed effort, and discovering that beyond those limits, a rich and purposeful life awaits.
“But how do I know I won’t screw it up again?”