I’m on day two of being unwell, and like often happens in stillness, lessons rise to the surface.

Eclipses remind us of reality. They shatter illusions and strip away what is no longer meant for us. And isn’t life like that? A constant practice of knowing when to leave—the party, the job, the relationship, the emotions—that no longer serve us.

Over time, I’ve learned to want what wants me. Reciprocity is not optional, it’s essential. If something requires constant force to exist in your life, it simply isn’t for you. Sometimes the most powerful act is to swallow hard truths and move forward with grace.

Take ghosting, or being left on read. We complicate these things in our minds, attaching stories, but the truth is simple: life is short. Don’t waste your time waiting for energy from someone unwilling to give it. Delete the messages, clear the reminders, and release yourself.

If someone can’t even extend the courtesy of a clear “no thank you,” it speaks volumes about their maturity, not yours. And so, when interest isn’t mutual, do yourself a favor—step back, respect what has ended, and move forward with dignity. Don’t keep feeding energy into someone who has already shown you they don’t want to receive it.

Happiness is a choice. Healing is a choice. Silence is a choice. And silence, at times, is the loudest answer of all.

The Tao and the Art of Letting Go

The Tao teaches us that life is a river. Its waters flow freely, bending and turning, never resisting the rocks in its path but moving gracefully around them. The art of letting go is learning to live like the river—without clinging, without forcing, without trying to control what cannot be controlled.

Attachment, in Taoist wisdom, creates suffering. When we hold too tightly to people, situations, or outcomes, we create resistance against the natural flow of life. Detachment is not indifference; it is trust. It is the quiet knowing that what is meant for you will come, and what is not will drift away.

To practice detachment is to practice alignment. Instead of swimming against the current, you surrender to the movement of life itself. That surrender is not weakness, but strength. It is the courage to say: I release what does not belong to me so that I can receive what does.

The Tao reminds us:

• Don’t chase. What is yours cannot be lost.

• Don’t cling. What leaves creates space for something new.

• Don’t resist. The more you fight, the heavier the burden becomes.

Letting go is an art because it requires grace, trust, and presence. When you stop forcing and start allowing, you discover peace. Silence becomes your teacher, and simplicity becomes your freedom.

But surrender is often misunderstood. Surrender is not giving up—it’s giving over. It’s releasing the illusion of control and aligning with a deeper flow of energy that is already guiding you. Taoists call this wu wei—“action through non-action.”

Non-action doesn’t mean sitting back and doing nothing. It means moving without resistance, acting in harmony with timing, and allowing your steps to unfold naturally. It is trusting that the right action arises when you are aligned with life itself. Like bamboo that bends in the wind, or water that finds its path around stone, surrender is strength disguised as softness.

And right now, the timing is perfect for release. We are still in the shadow of yesterday’s eclipse, and its energy will linger for another seven days. This is a sacred window for shedding illusions, breaking attachments, and clearing space. Later this month, as the Solar Eclipse in Virgo arrives, we will step into a new world, lighter and more aligned.

In Tao, life is not about holding on. It is about moving with the rhythm of change. When you let go now, you are not only honoring your own path—you are also flowing with the cosmic rhythm, preparing for renewal.

Tao and Stoicism: Two Paths, One Wisdom

Though born in different cultures, Taoism in the East and Stoicism in the West share a profound common thread: the art of living in alignment with reality. Both philosophies teach us that suffering arises not from life itself, but from our resistance to it.

The Stoics believed we should distinguish between what is within our control and what is not. Our thoughts, choices, and actions are ours. But everything else—other people’s behavior, the timing of events, even fortune itself—is beyond us. To fight what is not ours to command only multiplies our pain. Taoism teaches the same through surrender and wu wei: when you flow with the current of life instead of against it, peace becomes possible.

Both Tao and Stoicism encourage:

• Detachment from outcomes: Focus on effort, not results.

• Acceptance of impermanence: Change is constant; fighting it is futile.

• Living in harmony with nature: Whether it is the Tao’s river or the Stoics’ Logos (universal reason), both point us to attune ourselves to a larger order.

• Strength in stillness: Neither philosophy glorifies frantic striving. Instead, both see power in restraint, patience, and silence.

The Tao whispers: Flow with life.
The Stoics remind us: Endure with wisdom.

Together, they teach that letting go is not weakness—it is courage. It is choosing to meet reality on its own terms, with grace, humility, and inner freedom.

The Myth of Closure

We often wait for closure in life. We expect apologies, explanations, or justice to arrive neatly wrapped at our door, as if the world owed us balance. But closure, in its popular sense, is a myth. It is nothing more than an expectation of someone else’s behavior in a world built on free will.

The truth is, the world is rarely just. Justice is not guaranteed. Apologies don’t always come. Explanations don’t always arrive. Waiting for them only binds us more tightly to disappointment.

The only real closure is the one we give ourselves—and that is called healing. Healing is the act of releasing the expectation of what “should have been” and making peace with what is. It is choosing not to live in chains of resentment or longing, but to walk forward in freedom.

Both Taoism and Stoicism point us toward this truth. The Tao reminds us to flow, to let go of resistance, and to move with life’s current. Stoicism teaches us to focus only on what we can control—our own choices, our own inner state—and to release the rest.

Closure, then, is not a gift others hand to us. It is a gift we give ourselves. And in that gift lies true power: the power to let go, to heal, and to begin again.

Because every ending, every misalignment, is also the beginning of something new. Maybe even something extraordinary. Life itself has a way of surprising us in ways we cannot yet imagine.

Love, 

Laura