Okay. Sit with me for a second, my friend.
I know how that sounds. You are the only one responsible for everything that happens in your life. The mind wants to fight it right away, doesn’t it? It starts listing all the things that happened to you, all the people, all the plans that fell apart, the ones who let you down, the season that came in heavier than you asked for. And the mind is doing its job. That’s what it does. It defends, it explains, it points somewhere out there. But just for a moment, let it go quiet, and come back in here with me.
Because here’s the thing. Nothing out there is holding the pen. You are. Not the fault of it, I’m not talking about fault, that’s the ego’s little game, blame and shame and who did what to who. I’m talking about response. The one who gets to choose what happens next inside you, no matter what happened out there. And that one is always you. Always has been.
Think about it. Two people wake up to the exact same morning, the same grey sky, the same hard news, and one of them is crushed by it and the other one is moved by it, and what’s the difference? It isn’t the morning. The morning is just the morning. It’s neutral. It’s already in flux, already changing. The difference is the story. The difference is what you decided it means. Thinking makes it so, you know? It always has.
And I’ll tell you something wild, this isn’t just some feel-good idea, your body knows it too. There was this study, way back, they gave a group of older folks in a care home just a little bit of responsibility, a plant to water, a say in their own day, that’s it. And that group lived longer. More alert, more alive, more days on this earth, just from holding a little bit of the wheel. A plant, my friend. That’s how hungry the spirit is to be at the helm of its own life. Responsibility isn’t the weight you think it is. It’s medicine. It’s oxygen.
Now I hear you. What about the things that were done to me, the real ones, the boundaries that got crossed? And I want to be gentle here, because that’s real. Somebody intrudes, somebody crosses a line, that happened, I’m not erasing it. But watch what the mind does with it. It builds a whole house there and moves in. It replays it on a loop. And the harm that keeps you up at night, that one lives in here now, in the replay, in the story you keep telling yourself. Nobody can keep on hurting you but you. So the practice, the real radical practice, is to take even that back. To say, okay, that was theirs, that was their nature moving through them, and what’s mine? What’s mine to do now? How do I rise from here? That question is a doorway, and it’s yours, and it’s always unlocked.
Everything’s changing anyway. Your cells are regenerating right now as you read this. Your next breath is already a medium for change. You are not the same person who started this sentence. So if you’re transforming no matter what, why not aim it? Why not point it somewhere good, somewhere vibrant, somewhere more you, a better one, a 2.0? You get to. That’s the secret nobody hands you, my friend. You get to.
So here’s what I want you to do, and it’s small, it’s so small. Pick one thing right now that feels like it’s happening to you. Just one. Feel how heavy it is, how outside-your-hands it feels. And then take a breath. Pull your shoulders back, feel the floor holding you, the ground under the floor, the earth under the ground. You’re safe. You’ve got your breath, you’ve got this moment, you’ve got water, you’ve got life. And ask, real quiet, what’s mine to do here? And then do the smallest true thing. Send the text. Set the line. Let the thought go. Take the breath. And watch. Watch how the whole weight of it moves the second your hands find the wheel.
You are so much freer than you feel. The whole thing is more malleable than they ever told you. You can mold it. You’ve always been able to mold it. And that weight you’ve been carrying around, that heavy thing, that’s just the exact size of the freedom that’s been waiting inside it this whole time.
That’s it for today. Take the wheel, my friend. I’m loving this energy. Namaste.
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Carry this into tomorrow morning
The practice in this post lives in an app we built, Hold Until Sunrise. Your alarm becomes a moment of stillness. You hold your phone, rest with one affirmation, and let the sunrise welcome you into the day. Begin tomorrow gently and on your own terms. Find it on the App Store here.