The Weight We Choose to Hold

Letting go sounds simple, but in practice it can feel like one of the hardest things we are asked to do as human beings. We often find ourselves holding onto people, relationships, moments, or even pain long after they’ve ended. But why?

Sometimes we cling because endings feel like empty spaces, and emptiness can feel scarier than even the hurt we carry. At other times, it’s not the person or situation we miss, it’s the version of ourselves we were back then, the hope, joy, or identity we tied to that chapter. This human tendency to hold on, even when it weighs us down, is beautifully illustrated in the old parable of The Monk and the River, which reminds us that true freedom comes not from clinging, but from learning when to let go.

The Story: An old monk and a young monk were traveling together when they came to a rushing river. On the bank stood a woman, hesitant and afraid to cross.

Without a word, the old monk lifted her onto his shoulders, carried her through the water, and set her safely on the other side. She bowed in gratitude, and the monks continued their journey in silence.

Hours later, the young monk finally burst out: "How could you carry that woman? We’ve taken vows,..., we’re not supposed to touch women!"

The old monk turned to him, eyes calm as still water, and said: "I set her down hours ago. But you—you’re still carrying her."

This ancient Zen parable cuts to the heart of a modern struggle:

• The old monk acted without conflict, helping was natural, releasing it even more so.

• The young monk clung to rules over reality, torturing himself with "shoulds" long after the moment passed.

Sound familiar?

Three Lessons for a Lighter Life

1. Let Go or Be Dragged

The young monk’s real burden wasn’t the woman: it was his judgment. We do this too:

• Rehashing old arguments in our heads

• Beating ourselves up for past mistakes

• Obsessing over "right" vs. "kind"

Try this: Next time you’re stuck on a loop, ask:"Am I the old monk (acting with clarity) or the young one (carrying ghosts)?"

2. Presence Over Purity

The old monk broke a rule, but his intention was pure. Meanwhile, the young monk kept the letter of his vows but lost the spirit: mindfulness.

The paradox: Sometimes, rigid adherence to "how things should be" distracts us from what’s needed now.

3. Compassion Without Chains

True compassion has no baggage:

• The old monk helped without attaching to guilt, pride, or story.

• The young monk turned kindness into a crisis.

The test: When you help someone, can you walk away emotionally too?

Therapy Connection: Letting Go at the River

As a therapist, I often notice how much of our present energy is tied up in the past. Clients replay childhood wounds as though they are stuck on repeat. Couples carry decade-old slights like quiet baggage. And so many of us confuse memory with identity, as if the story of what once happened must define who we are now.

It reminds me of a Gestalt practice I sometimes invite clients into. I ask them to imagine holding that memory the cutting remark, the betrayal, the “should have been” in their hands. Then I guide them to set it down beside a river, to picture the water flowing past, carrying leaves, branches, sunlight, shadows: imagine placing that thought, that memory, or that resentment by the river’s edge. Watch it sit there, outside of you, and notice what remains when you no longer carry it?

The silence that follows is often more powerful than words.

We each have our own “woman by the river” a burden we’ve carried further than it was meant to travel. Maybe it’s resentment, maybe a family rule that no longer fits, maybe guilt that should have expired long ago.

This is where reflection can deepen the practice. Ask yourself: What is my “woman by the river”? Is it a resentment I’ve nursed for years? A family rule that cages me? A wound that still feels too heavy to let down? These questions invite us to name what clings to us long after it should have passed.

Non-attachment is not indifference; it is the art of loosening our grip. The truth is, letting go is less about forgetting and more about remembering that the present is always flowing. The past is only a footprint in wet sand, it can hold shape for a while, but the river keeps moving, and so can we.

You might try helping someone today and, instead of holding on to how they respond, allow yourself to truly release it. Notice how it feels when your act of care isn’t tied to expectation.

So let me ask you: when has clinging to being “right” cost you your peace? What would it feel like to step into this moment lighter, freer, unburdened? These are not questions for the page alone, they’re invitations for you to sit with, perhaps to journal, perhaps simply to feel in your body.

Let the water move. Let the stone drop. And notice how open your hands feel when they are no longer holding yesterday. Let the river carry what no longer serves you. Then, step forward a little lighter.