Unclench
On releasing the grip, trusting the process, and what happens when you stop strong-arming the world
If you’ve ever caught yourself bracing for impact while simply carrying groceries, this one’s for you.
Sometimes I catch myself literally bracing. Shoulders tight, breath shallow, as if the simple act of hauling groceries from the car requires my entire body to prepare for battle.
Oliver Burkeman writes: “The less I’m trying to get something out of an experience, the more I find I can get into it, and the more I can be present for other people involved in it.”
We move through the world clenched. Braced against what might be coming, gripping tightly to what we think we need to control.
Or worse, I wake at 4 AM, shoulders hunched against a world that feels unbearably heavy. My dreams unravel into panic. My mind clutches at problems that can’t be solved in the middle of the night.
But then I breathe. And soften.
There’s nothing I can do in that moment. Grasping for control only makes the weight heavier. Sleep will help.
The Creative Version Of This
For years I approached my creative work the same way I approached the world: clenched. Waiting for someone to open the gates for me. Some authority to deem my work worthy and grant me permission to succeed.
Most of the time those gates stayed firmly shut.
Occasionally someone would crack one open and my creative career would inch forward, painstakingly slow. I’m not complaining. Raising two kids has been the hardest and most perspective-shifting work of my life. I often think if someone had rocketed my star to fame earlier I wouldn’t have been able to manage it.
Still. There comes a moment when you have to stop waiting for permission. You take authority over your own creative life. You start making things happen.
I’ve decided to do it without clenching.
What Unclenching Actually Looks Like
When I send a script sample, pitch an idea, or submit a demo, I no longer spend the next day compulsively checking my phone waiting for some email to validate my efforts. I send the work out and then let it go. Let it float away, unattached to whether or not it comes back.
I don’t let my mood hinge on a decision that’s completely out of my hands. That desperate grasping is clenching.
It’s scary. It requires real faith in yourself.
And here’s the strange thing: as I’ve unclenched I’ve received more feedback than ever before. Opportunities seem to arrive with more ease. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.
Flow doesn’t come through force. You can’t strong-arm the world into giving you what you want. Trust me, I’ve tried. You have to open, your body, your mind, your heart, and trust the process. Trust that what is meant for you will find you and what isn’t will fall away.
Unclenching isn’t apathy. It isn’t giving up. It’s allowing. Staying present in the act of creating while releasing attachment to the outcome.
When I unclench my work feels lighter, freer, more alive. My body feels it too. Less braced. Less tight. More able to flow with what’s actually in front of me.
The world does not want to be strong-armed.
But it does respond to openness. To willingness. To the quiet unclenched bravery of putting your work into the world and letting it find its way, on its own time, without an agenda.
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