The Art of Letting Go- A Personal Reflection

The art of letting go: Letting go of what we treasured, of what we once believed would always belong to us.

The things we sheltered, nurtured, and protected with all we had, believed would always be ours… and yet, one day, we watch them slip away into hidden places and barely noticeable crevices we never knew existed. They fall into corners of life we cannot see and will never fully understand, and we let them go without ever knowing where they land or what they become. Sometimes life leaves us no choice but to let them go, and at other times we slowly realize that we simply need to.

The flowers whisper as they let go of the branches

Across a lifetime, we uncage and surrender fragments of who we once were, until one day we look back at a self we can barely recognize. The toys we once loved, the friends with whom we shared them, even the siblings we fought just to claim a little more of what we thought was ours. One day, we watch those old toys being weighed and sold to the scrap dealer, and it suddenly hits us: either we outgrew them, or they outgrew us?

The seed of ‘letting go’ has quietly taken root in the stillness of the child’s unstained mind. And before she can fully understand it, the school days slip away… Friends who were once the guardians of her secrets step out into the vast world. The daily canteen conversations about the most handsome boy in school, the latest fashion trends, and the joyful ritual of sharing tiffins slowly turn into occasional calls and scattered messages. And then those friends, that unconditional love, those shimmering moments—do they become part of growing up, or simply another chapter in the long practice of letting go?

Maybe they become both…

The tree smiles as it lets go and yet holds on.

It is often said that holding something too tightly, too close, leaves no room to breathe. What we hold fast to with all our strength begins to shrink, suffocate, and slowly lose its shape. And in that quiet erosion, it is not only what we grasp that suffers, but the one who is holding on, in ways we never imagined.

But is that all?

Don’t we treasure the moments we lived so fiercely? Don’t we cherish the people we loved, the gifts they gave us, the memories stitched into our skin? Don’t we cling—sometimes desperately—to people, places, emotions, pain, love, longing, hurt, and joy?

Aren’t these the very things that shape us… or the ones we once hoped would?

So is letting go really just about letting go?

Can’t I glance back once or twice or even thrice—to see if my child has crossed the road safely? Can't I keep her tiny socks nestled in a safe corner of my cupboard? Can’t I slip back into those evenings when my mother would wait impatiently, lovingly, for me to return safely from college? Can’t I dream of those days when dreaming was enough? Can’t I meet an old friend at a coffee shop, even if I've lost her number or her address has changed? Can’t the girl next door wait for her lover one last time? Maybe he is waiting for her call, too. And can’t I wish to see my father and speak to him once more, even if only in memory?

Where is the balance? How much do we let go, and how much do we hold on?

Every day, a part of me is released into the wind, and I become someone I never imagined I would be. I cannot return to the naïve, innocent version of myself I once was—the girl who doubted her own skin, her clothes, her tied-up hair. And yet, I miss her. I miss the version of me who lost pieces of her youth trying to become herself in a world that never really paused long enough to notice.

Maybe letting go is not a single act, but a lifelong unfolding, a gentle loosening of what must leave, and a tender holding of what still asks to stay. Maybe this entire journey is not only about letting go but also about holding on gently and intentionally to the pieces that make our lives worth living. Maybe letting go has more to say than I perceive—more to unravel, more to reveal, more to surprise us with. Sometimes, letting go feels light, like a feather drifting out of nowhere and settling gently on your balcony. Maybe it arrives to help us notice things we would have otherwise missed. And yes, maybe one day, I’ll learn to let go of cooking too!!!

"And there she walks and tumbles

with her toes on the floor,

the feet that once learned to stand

is now running a marathon..."

By Nandini Sengupta

@metaphors_of_life