The surest way to get a thing in this life is to be prepared for

The Scottish writer Jane Welsh Carlyle, wife of the philosopher Thomas Carlyle, once uttered a truth both austere and liberating: “The surest way to get a thing in this life is to be prepared for doing without it, to the exclusion even of hope.” In these words lies a wisdom drawn not from theory but from the bitter and beautiful experience of the heart. She speaks to that strange law of the spirit: that when one clings too tightly to a desire, it flees, and when one releases it, it often returns transformed. The saying is not one of despair, but of strength—a teaching that calls us to practice detachment, to find freedom not in having, but in being.

The origin of this quote lies in the life of Jane herself, a woman of intellect and passion who lived in the shadow of her husband’s greatness, and yet whose letters reveal a mind as sharp as his, and a heart often burdened with longing. Her marriage to Thomas Carlyle was marked by affection and torment, brilliance and loneliness. She desired love, understanding, and peace—but life seldom gave her what she asked. Out of that crucible of unfulfilled longing came her insight: that the only way to endure life’s deprivations without bitterness is to learn the art of renunciation—to find serenity even when the heart is denied its wants. Thus, her words carry the melancholy wisdom of one who has learned that true possession begins when attachment ends.

In saying that one must be prepared for doing without, Jane Carlyle does not counsel indifference or cynicism. Rather, she teaches mastery of the self. Desire, when unchecked, enslaves the soul; but when disciplined, it becomes a servant of peace. She tells us that one must be so ready to live without the desired thing that even hope—that sweet yet dangerous companion—is silenced. For hope, though it gives wings to the weary, can also bind us to longing and delay our acceptance of reality. To surrender hope is not to sink into despair, but to step into a deeper peace—the peace of knowing that one’s happiness is not dependent on outcomes, but on inner strength.

The ancients, too, knew this law. The Stoics taught that a man’s tranquility lies in his power to remain undisturbed by what he cannot control. Epictetus said, “Freedom is not achieved by satisfying desire, but by eliminating it.” What Jane Carlyle expresses in her gentle, sorrowful way is the same principle dressed in the garments of her time: that fulfillment is found not in grasping, but in letting go. The one who can face loss without trembling, who can look upon the world and say, “I am content even without what I desire,” is the one to whom fortune often yields what it once withheld. The universe seems to favor those who no longer chase it.

Consider the story of Gautama Buddha, who renounced his kingdom, his pleasures, and his attachments in search of truth. He sat beneath the Bodhi tree, prepared for all—prepared, even, for death. It was only when he released all hope of attainment that enlightenment came to him. For as long as he sought it, it eluded him; when he ceased to cling, the truth descended upon him like gentle rain. So too in the affairs of the heart and the labors of the world: the one who works, prays, and loves without expectation achieves far more than the one whose joy depends on success. The hands that are open are the ones that receive.

Jane Carlyle’s insight also holds a mirror to the modern soul, restless and hungry for possession—of wealth, of love, of recognition. We are taught to hope endlessly, to grasp without ceasing, to demand that life yield to our will. Yet such hope, when bound to desire, often breeds torment. When what we wish for is denied, we call life cruel; when it is granted, we fear its loss. The wise soul, however, learns another way: to live fully in effort, but empty of demand—to love deeply, yet without clinging; to strive nobly, yet without fear of failure. This is not apathy, but freedom—the freedom to live joyfully in a world that owes us nothing.

Lesson and Practice:
Do not seek peace in possession; seek it in acceptance. When you desire something deeply, work for it with all your strength—but in your heart, be ready to let it go. Practice gratitude for what is, not longing for what is not. Each day, remind yourself that nothing is truly yours—not wealth, not love, not even breath—and yet, all is a gift. When you no longer depend on the outcome, you will find that life itself becomes generous, and often, what you had prepared to live without will come to you freely. For as Jane Welsh Carlyle teaches, the paradox of life is this: the surest way to gain is to cease to crave, and the path to peace begins the moment one learns the art of relinquishment.