Why Do We Cling to What We Can't Change? How to Let Go and Find Peace
Not long ago, I was listening to a dharma talk by the Korean Buddhist monk Ven. Beopsang when one line stopped me cold.
"Why have I been trying so hard to hold on to things I can't change?"
Something in my chest tightened.
And the more I sat with it, the more I realized — most of us are doing exactly this, every day.
We try to change other people.
We try to change outcomes.
We try to undo what's already done.
But almost nothing actually shifts, and what we're left with is exhaustion.
If something is weighing on you right now, try pausing and asking yourself:
"Is this actually something I can change?"
You might be surprised how much lighter things start to feel just from sitting with that question.
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| Photo by the author |
We're Not Tired From Trying Too Hard — We're Fighting the Wrong Battle
Most people assume burnout comes from working too much. But maybe what's really wearing us out is the relentless attempt to change what was never ours to change.
The world doesn't move according to our wishes. People don't. Our efforts don't always produce the results we want. Countless things unfold entirely outside our control.
And yet we keep insisting they go our way.
Self-help culture tells us that if we want something badly enough and work hard enough, we can make it happen.
I used to believe that too — until I encountered the Buddhist concept of dependent origination, the idea that everything arises in dependence on conditions, nothing in isolation.
We want others to understand us.
We want past events to turn out differently.
We want the future to bend toward what we're hoping for.
None of that is inherently wrong. The problem is that we rarely stop to notice these things are simply outside our control. And that's where the suffering begins.
A single flower blooms only when countless conditions align — soil, rain, light, time.
No outcome is ever the product of one person's will alone.
Much of our suffering may come not from life itself, but from the illusion that we can control it.
The Illusion of Control: What We Can and Cannot Change
The next line of the song struck me even harder:
"But strangely, my own mind changed right away. The only thing I need to change is what's inside me — my thoughts, my words, the person I am today."
The more I turned it over, the truer it rang.
We can't change other people's hearts.
We can't change the direction of the world.
We can't change what's already happened.
But in this moment — what thought to hold, what words to speak, what attitude to carry through the day — that belongs entirely to us.
There's a reason the Buddha placed such emphasis on sati (mindfulness) — the practice of being fully present and aware in each moment.
Life, after all, is the sum of how we experience each of those moments.
Our bodies and minds change faster than we can control.
What we can do is choose how we respond.
That's the real practice: noticing what's here, and responding wisely.
(If you're interested in this idea, you may also enjoy "Is Your Mind Really There?")
Is Suffering a Misfortune or a Lesson?
"Even when pain comes, it's okay. Whether I call it misfortune or a lesson — that's ultimately my choice."
This line is the one I keep coming back to.
Two people can go through the same experience.
One calls it the worst thing that ever happened to them. The other says it changed their life for the better.
The suffering itself isn't the variable. The meaning we assign to it is.
I know this from my own life.
Within a span of nine months, my mother's dementia symptoms suddenly worsened — and at the same time, my father was diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer and passed away.
It was the hardest stretch of my life, and also the one in which I grew the most.
During those months, I never once said out loud that things were hard.
I asked the people around me to stop saying "hang in there" and instead tell me, "You're doing well. You're handling this beautifully."
Because somewhere inside, I trusted that I could meet whatever life placed before me.
Rather than collapsing under the weight of it, I felt something closer to gratitude.
These two people had loved me so completely.
Now I had a chance to give something of that love back.
Every day, I told them I loved them and that I was grateful.
And the day my father passed became, simultaneously, the saddest day I had ever known and the most beautiful — a farewell held entirely in love.
That night, I told my brother: "To be present for someone's death — the most solemn and significant journey a human being takes — was an honor."
Looking back, the hardest seasons of my life have also been the ones that made me who I am.
About a year later, I started attending Ven. Beopsang's dharma talks out of curiosity.
One day I heard him say: "What is meant to happen will happen. Receive it fully."
And something clicked.
Without consciously trying, I had already been living that practice during those nine months.
Letting Go of Outcomes: The Wisdom of Non-Attachment
The final lines of the song echoed something I've heard in those talks many times:
"Life is simpler than you think. Just do what you can. Leave the rest to life. What's meant to work out will. What isn't, won't."
At first, it can sound like resignation.
It isn't.
It's the wisdom of releasing attachment — not the same as giving up.
It doesn't mean stop trying.
Do the things that matter to you.
Give them your whole heart.
Then let go of the outcome.
Buddhism describes this as chanda — wholesome intention or aspiration.
The sincere desire to do something, to put in genuine effort, is beautiful and important. The trouble begins when we clench around the result, when we decide it must go a certain way. That's the moment the mind gets heavy.
(The difference between wanting something and craving it is something I explore further in "I Want To: How Wholesome Desire (Chanda) Leads to Freedom")
Life Doesn't Go the Way We Plan — And That's Not the Problem
So much of our exhaustion may trace back to a single belief: that the world is supposed to bend to our will.
When we loosen our grip — even a little — on the things we cannot change, we find more room to breathe than we expected.
"What's meant to work out will. What isn't, won't" isn't a white flag.
It's a quiet reminder: do your best in this moment, and then set yourself free from the outcome.
When we stop fighting the current, we begin to move with it.
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| Photo by the author |
Nurturing Your Daily Practice
If these reflections offered you a moment of comfort, you might find solace in exploring a few other pieces focused on inner clarity.
These articles are gentle companions for your personal journey.
They are designed to unravel the complex patterns of the mind, opening up a path toward genuine freedom in everyday life.
[To Those Anxious About the Future: The One Truth You Don’t Know Yet]
[Why Doesn't Happiness Last? The Buddhist Explanation of Suffering]
[Feeling Lost in Life? The Buddhist Wisdom of Not Knowing]
A Visual Invitation to Deeper Stillness
This piece began with a single line from a dharma song by Ven. Beopsang.
If you're feeling weighed down and want to listen, I've linked the video below.
To hear the specific melody that inspired these thoughts, you can skip directly to the section from 53:21 to 55:50.
Along with this, I have shared a link to another of his profound teachings.
Pairing today's post with that additional video will provide a much richer and more comforting dimension to your mindfulness practice.
[The Illusion of Lack: Why Striving for More Blocks Your True Abundance]
"May all living beings be healthy, happy, and prosperous. May they be safe, secure, and free from all dangers and enemies."
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