The Art of Surrender: Letting Go of Control to Find Peace

For most of my life, I was a classic Type A personality. I wanted to control everything, how I was perceived, how others behaved, and of course, how “perfectly” I performed in every area of life. If I couldn’t be perfect, I would give up trying all together, another sneakier form of control. Control felt safe. If I could orchestrate it all, then maybe nothing would fall apart.

But the truth is, that grip was exhausting. Perfection is an illusion, and control is often just fear dressed up as discipline.

Sobriety and the First Taste of Letting Go

When I got sober, I had to face the reality that my way of controlling life wasn’t working. Sobriety demanded surrender. I had to trust in something greater than myself, whether you call it God, the universe, or a higher power of your own understanding. That shift cracked open the idea that I didn’t need to micromanage every detail of life.

It wasn’t about giving up responsibility, but about loosening the grip. Allowing life to unfold without my constant interference. (You can read more about my sobriety journey here: Sobriety: Learning to Feel Comfortable in My Own Skin)

The Farmer’s Luck: A Taoist Parable

There’s an old Taoist story that captures this perfectly:

A farmer’s horse ran away, and the neighbors said, “Oh no, what terrible luck!”
The farmer replied: “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”

A few days later, the horse returned with several wild horses. “What good fortune!” the neighbors exclaimed.
The farmer said: “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”

Later, the farmer’s son broke his leg trying to tame one of the new horses. The neighbors cried, “Oh no, how unlucky!”
Again the farmer said: “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”

Soon after, the army came through the village to recruit young men for war. Because the son’s leg was broken, he was spared. “What wonderful luck!” the neighbors said.
And the farmer replied once more: “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”

The story reminds us that we don’t know the final outcome. What feels like a setback may be protection. What looks like a gift may hold lessons we don’t yet understand. Peace comes from releasing the judgment of “good” or “bad” and letting life unfold.

A Course in Miracles and the Practice of Surrender

In my study of A Course in Miracles, I’ve learned that peace is not found in control, it’s found in trust. The Course teaches that every moment offers us a choice between fear and love. Control is rooted in fear: the belief that I must manage everything to be safe. Surrender is rooted in love: the quiet knowing that I am supported, guided, and held even when I can’t see the full picture.

When I pause and release the need to label or manipulate, I experience a deeper calm. Surrender doesn’t mean I stop showing up or stop caring, it means I align my will with something greater than myself and allow the flow of life to carry me forward.

Daily Practices that Anchor Surrender

Surrender is not a one time decision, it’s a daily practice. Each morning, I return to simple grounding habits that remind me to soften, to release, and to trust. These practices, from movement or the internal calming practice of hot to cold therapy help me return to that quiet place of peace.

(If you’d like to read more, I’ve shared the Seven Practices That Transformed My Health and Happiness — all of which connect back to this central theme of surrender.)

Finding Your Source of Peace

For me, that source is God, the divine love I experience through both sobriety and spiritual practice. For you, it might be nature, meditation, prayer, or simply the act of breathing deeply and trusting the moment. What matters is not the label, but the connection. The choice to anchor yourself in something that reminds you life is bigger than your immediate circumstances.

When we stop trying to play God and start trusting in God, or the universe, or love, we find freedom. We discover that peace isn’t in controlling outcomes; peace is in knowing that no matter the outcome, we are okay.

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Stop Guessing, Start Tracking: Why I Wasted $16,000 and 8 Years Chasing the Wrong Solution

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Sobriety: Learning to Feel Comfortable in My Own Skin