That was a really interesting read. Some things there I hadn't really thought about, and it's certainly good to see something like that, which has given me some things to try and put into practice.
"The impulse to control returns like breath." THIS. I'm continually coming down on myself because I keep bouncing back to wanting to control things. I know and agree with everything you articulatly wrote... the consistent practice of it is always my challenge.
I feel like you wrote this for me. I know I need to let go,but my brain is all strategery and manipulation (mostly for good but still). Let go, let go, let go.
Reading this felt like someone finally gave my worry permission to exist. I love how you frame uncertainty not as failure, but as space to grow. Needed this today.✨
You’ve named the cruelest part of anxiety—that it turns on itself. We don’t just worry, we worry about worrying. That secondary layer of suffering you identify is where most of us actually live, and seeing it described clearly feels like recognition.
The distinction you draw between influencing and controlling hits hardest. “We can plant seeds without forcing them to grow.” That’s the whole practice in one line. Most writing about acceptance reads as passive, like giving up. Yours doesn’t. You’re describing something more difficult: active presence that doesn’t demand reality submit to our design.
The Thich Nhat Hanh quote belongs exactly where you placed it. The mother doesn’t solve anything yet everything shifts. Just the embrace changes the baby’s experience. That’s what being with uncertainty looks like—not resolution, but companionship.
What you’re describing is countercultural in a specific way right now. We’re not just individually confused about control—there’s an entire apparatus selling us certainty. Every productivity system, every optimization promise, every guaranteed-success formula treats uncertainty as a problem sufficient preparation can solve. It can’t. Which means choosing presence is partly a refusal of how we’re told to live.
When worry returns (it always returns), the path back runs through the body. Not breath as technique but breath as the most obvious proof we’re here, in this moment, not in some imagined future. The body doesn’t traffic in maybe. It just is.
Your closing stays with me: “This is enough. It’s always been enough.” That’s the permission people need—not to make everything okay, but to trust their capacity to meet what arrives. Not certainty. Just presence. That turns out to be plenty.
That was a really interesting read. Some things there I hadn't really thought about, and it's certainly good to see something like that, which has given me some things to try and put into practice.
Thank you so much for reading, Gary. I'm glad you found it helpful! 🙏
"The impulse to control returns like breath." THIS. I'm continually coming down on myself because I keep bouncing back to wanting to control things. I know and agree with everything you articulatly wrote... the consistent practice of it is always my challenge.
Thank you, Melanie! You're right... the challenge is always the practice. I have to keep reminding myself. 🫶
I feel like you wrote this for me. I know I need to let go,but my brain is all strategery and manipulation (mostly for good but still). Let go, let go, let go.
So happy you like it ♥️ You are so right! We're aware of the problem but practice is the hard part!
Reminds me of the saying: The only way is through,
Absolutely 💯 🩶
What a beautiful work 💕
Thank you so much, Hina ♥️
Reading this felt like someone finally gave my worry permission to exist. I love how you frame uncertainty not as failure, but as space to grow. Needed this today.✨
You are very kind, thank you for taking the time to read ❤️
You’ve named the cruelest part of anxiety—that it turns on itself. We don’t just worry, we worry about worrying. That secondary layer of suffering you identify is where most of us actually live, and seeing it described clearly feels like recognition.
The distinction you draw between influencing and controlling hits hardest. “We can plant seeds without forcing them to grow.” That’s the whole practice in one line. Most writing about acceptance reads as passive, like giving up. Yours doesn’t. You’re describing something more difficult: active presence that doesn’t demand reality submit to our design.
The Thich Nhat Hanh quote belongs exactly where you placed it. The mother doesn’t solve anything yet everything shifts. Just the embrace changes the baby’s experience. That’s what being with uncertainty looks like—not resolution, but companionship.
What you’re describing is countercultural in a specific way right now. We’re not just individually confused about control—there’s an entire apparatus selling us certainty. Every productivity system, every optimization promise, every guaranteed-success formula treats uncertainty as a problem sufficient preparation can solve. It can’t. Which means choosing presence is partly a refusal of how we’re told to live.
When worry returns (it always returns), the path back runs through the body. Not breath as technique but breath as the most obvious proof we’re here, in this moment, not in some imagined future. The body doesn’t traffic in maybe. It just is.
Your closing stays with me: “This is enough. It’s always been enough.” That’s the permission people need—not to make everything okay, but to trust their capacity to meet what arrives. Not certainty. Just presence. That turns out to be plenty.
Love this, thank you! 🙏
Yes, I keep surrendering to the unknown and learning to trust the field of possibilities before me. 🙏🏼