For years, I had the same chair at work. It wasn’t anything special—just a regular office chair, but it was my chair. It had molded to me over time, adjusting to the way I sat, the way I leaned, the way I thought. It was always there, predictable and comfortable, an unspoken companion in my daily routine.
But one morning, I walked into work and something felt off. I sat down and immediately noticed the difference. The cushion was firmer. The armrests were slightly higher. The chair I had known for years was gone—replaced by something that was not mine.
Annoyance bubbled up instantly. Who moved my chair? Why would someone switch it? I’ve used that chair forever! My mind raced, grasping for justifications for why this was unfair. As I sat there, adjusting, fidgeting, and silently resisting, I could feel something deeper stirring—attachment.
It was just a chair. A chair. But my mind had made it mine. My familiarity with it had turned into possession, and that possession had become comfort. And now, because something had shifted outside of my control, I was experiencing discomfort, frustration, and even a little resentment.
That’s when it hit me.
How often do we do this in life? How often do we latch onto things, mistaking familiarity for necessity? We cling to routines, relationships, identities, and objects, believing they define us. And when they change—or worse, disappear—we feel lost, disturbed, and sometimes even angry.
The truth is, the chair was never really mine. It had simply been where I placed myself day after day. Just like so many things in life, it was temporary. The only thing making this moment uncomfortable was my resistance to what is.
I took a deep breath and let go.
Let go of the expectation.
Let go of the attachment.
Let go of the illusion of control.
And just like that, the frustration dissolved. The chair didn’t need to change—I did.
From that moment forward, I saw everything a little differently. Every time I felt resistance rise in me, I asked, What am I holding onto? What am I afraid to release?
Because true freedom is not in holding on—it’s in knowing we were never meant to hold onto anything at all.