“Lao Tzu said, ‘When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.’
Welcome to The Soul Podcast. I’m Stacey Wheeler.
Today, I want to talk about the quiet courage of letting go—not as losing something, but as making space for who you’re meant to become. This episode is for anyone holding on too tightly, wondering if surrender could light a new path. 

More than 2500 years ago Lao Tzu understood a truth which remains the same today. So he wrote it down. To become who we might be, we must let go of who we are. But how does that work? How do we “let go”? 

One morning, years ago, I was scrolling through open positions on one of those online job sites. I'd just found out I was to be downsized from the big software company I worked for. I knew I could find another position in the industry, making the same money or better. I was good at what I did and made a comfortable living. It payed the bills, allowed me to buy the things I wanted -and go on nice vacations. But it didn't excite me. It didn't fulfill me. For years I'd been chasing the next big deal... the next great position -the next raise. It's what I thought I wanted— security, a title, consistent income; something that said I’d made it. But it was never what I wanted to do. As I applied for a handful of jobs in my field, something in me whispered, This isn’t you anymore. It's a sensation I've come to think of as a knowing. I didn't need to logic it out or overthink it. I needed to only let go. So I did. And when job offers came in from that day's effort. I said no thank you.

It was an active choice; a soft turn -but it felt daunting to hold my course. Letting go felt like dropping an anchor into the dark; where would it land. How long would it take to settle? It required me to trust my knowing. Time would prove it to be the right choice. Saying 'no' led me to a happier, more relaxed life with more joy. Letting go led me to this microphone, to this moment with you. 

Have you ever clung to something—a job, a relationship, a version of yourself—only to feel the weight of it dimming your light? Have you ever ignored a knowing?
Letting go is like opening your grasp around a fist full of feathers... to let the wind carry them away. It’s not giving up; it’s trusting there’s more waiting. In 1888, a painter sat in a small room in Arles, France, wrestling with his own heart. He was 35, unknown, and battling storms in his mind—doubts that gnawed, voices that told him he’d never be enough. His paintings, bold with swirling colors. They were unique but different from the popular paintings of his time. No one was buying. Friends urged him to paint safer scenes, ones that were less colorful and more like others' paintings; ones that people would buy. But he chose to let go of their expectations. Each day he let go. Night after night, he walked into the fields, staring at the Provençal sky, its stars pulsing like a heartbeat. One evening, paintbrush in hand, he poured his soul onto a canvas, ignoring the well-intended advice he'd received. He painted from the heart. He painted what was in him. That starry night, he created something special. He wrote to his brother, Theo, ‘I am seeking. I am striving. I am in it with all my heart.’ That choice—to trust his inner vision over the world’s demands—gave us a masterpiece that still lights the dark for millions. Vincent van Gogh didn’t live to see his work celebrated, but his letting go left a legacy that outlasts time. It was in letting got that he was able to achieve a level of legacy he could have never imagined.
We all face moments where we must choose: hold on or let go. Maybe it’s an old grudge, a dream that no longer fits, or maybe it's a fear of who you might become. Did you know a 2019 study in Psychological Science found that releasing rigid attachments—like the need for control or perfection—rewires your brain, boosting mental flexibility and reducing stress? It’s like clearing a cluttered room to let the light in. But how do we do it? Start small. Pause before you react. Take a breath and ask, What am I holding that no longer serves me? Write it down—a fear, a regret, an old story—and imagine setting it down, like a stone you’ve carried too long. Visualize it. Visualize you no longer carrying it. Then, create a ritual: light a candle, take a walk, or whisper to yourself, I am enough as I am. These acts aren’t magic; they’re signals to your soul that you’re ready for what’s next. I've talked about the importance of ritual in our lives. Ritual is proven to solidify the way we operate. It rewrites our mental software, often in a deeply satisfying way, as it aligns us with our truest selves. 

Scientifically, studies have shown rituals calm the mind and rewire our habits, making change feel meaningful. Spiritually, rituals are like whispers to your soul, rewriting your inner story with each intentional act. And the more you engage in a ritual, the more solidified the new way of being becomes. 

So, ritual can be an important tool in letting go. 
That's because letting go isn’t a single moment—it’s a practice. I've learned this over time... long before I saw the research that confirmed it. Some days, I still catch myself gripping old doubts, like the time I almost said yes to a job I didn't want, out of fear I’d fail without it. Each time we choose to release, we feel lighter, like a bird slipping free of a cage. You don’t need to know what’s on the other side to let go; you just need to trust the fall. Think of Vincent, painting under that starry sky, not knowing his work would touch the world. Or think of yourself, right now, standing at your own crossroads. What’s in your hands? A resentment? A plan that’s gone stale? A version of you that’s too small for your spirit?
Let’s pause together. Close your eyes, if you can, and take a slow breath. Feel the air move through you. Picture something you’ve held too tightly—a worry, a 'what-if', a 'should.' Imagine setting it down, letting it drift like leaves on a stream. You don’t need to solve the mystery of what comes next. The beauty of letting go is in the space it creates—a space for joy, for possibility, for the you that’s waiting to emerge.
We all wonder, don’t we? What happens when we release what we’ve known? Does the universe catch us? The truth is, we’re already held—by the quiet pull of our hearts, by the stars that light our way. Vincent’s brushstrokes, born of surrender, remind us that letting go isn’t the end; it’s the beginning of a canvas only you can paint. So, light a candle. Take a step. Trust the fall. The light of who you might be is waiting, just beyond the edge of what you’re ready to release.