Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is

Hermann Hesse, the seeker of inner truths, once spoke these words: “Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.” In this saying lies a wisdom both tender and fierce, for it challenges the instinct of the human heart. We are taught to grip tightly to what we love, to cling to what we know, to believe that endurance alone is strength. Yet Hesse reminds us that there is another kind of courage—greater, quieter, and often harder: the courage to let go.

The ancients knew this paradox well. The Buddhists taught that attachment is the root of suffering, and that freedom comes not by chaining the heart, but by releasing it. The Stoics of Greece declared that no man can possess what fate may take away, and so wisdom lies in acceptance, not in desperate grasping. Hesse, walking in their lineage, teaches that to hold on is not always strength; sometimes it is fear disguised as courage. True strength may lie instead in opening the hand and surrendering.

Consider the story of Emperor Diocletian of Rome. After years of ruling with iron authority, he did what no emperor before him had dared—he abdicated the throne voluntarily. He chose to let go of power, wealth, and the endless struggle of empire, retreating to his gardens by the Adriatic Sea. Many thought him weak for abandoning the crown, but history shows the opposite: it took immense strength to release what others would have killed to keep. In letting go, he found a peace and clarity no throne could offer.

So too in our own lives: how often do we cling to broken relationships, old grudges, failing dreams, or identities that no longer fit us? We tell ourselves that by holding on we are strong, that endurance is victory. But often, it is in letting go that we free ourselves from chains. To release what no longer serves us is not defeat—it is transformation. It is the act of saying: “I am not defined by what I clutch, but by who I become.”

The meaning of Hesse’s words is therefore profound. Not all battles are won by gripping tighter. Some are won by releasing the rope that is tearing your hands. Not all strength is in resistance; some is in surrender. And though it is painful, though it feels like loss, letting go opens the door to renewal. Just as a tree must shed its leaves to prepare for spring, so must we shed what weighs us down if we are to grow.

The lesson is clear: discern when to endure and when to release. For there is a time for each. To endure hardship with dignity is noble; to cling to what destroys you is folly. The art of wisdom lies in knowing the difference. This discernment requires honesty, humility, and the courage to face emptiness—trusting that beyond loss lies renewal.

Therefore, let each soul practice the art of release. Let go of bitterness, so joy may return. Let go of fear, so courage may grow. Let go of the past, so the future may come. And when the time arrives, let go even of victories, of crowns, of identities that have served their purpose. For what is surrendered with wisdom is never truly lost—it is transformed into the soil of new life.

Thus Hermann Hesse’s words endure like a whisper from the eternal: “Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.” Carry this truth in your heart, and you will discover that strength is not only the grip of the hand, but the opening of it—the willingness to trust the flow of life, and to be remade by what comes after release.