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But what if you like doing things?
What if structure soothes you, goals excite you, and clarity makes you feel safe?
What if you want to take action?
Does that mean you’re still stuck in illusion?
Does that mean you don’t get it yet?
Does that mean you’re doing it wrong?
You read things that say:
You don’t have to do anything to get what you want.
There’s nothing to fix. Nothing to manifest. Life unfolds without your effort.
And part of you softens when you hear that.
But another part tightens.
Because part of you still believes in the power of doing.
You still feel responsible for the outcome.
You still find meaning in effort.
And somewhere deep down, you quietly wonder:
If I stop doing… will everything fall apart?
You don’t want to give up effort just to feel lost.
You don’t want to let go of control if it means floating untethered.
You don’t want to do nothing if it means nothing happens.
So when someone says:
You don’t need to do anything.
It feels both like a relief… and a threat.
And that’s okay.
It’s okay if you still want to do.
It’s okay if goals still feel good.
It’s okay if structure still holds you.
This isn’t about stopping anything.
It’s about seeing that none of it was ever required.
The doing you love will still arise.
The action will still happen.
The plans may still form.
The clarity might still come.
But not because you forced it.
Not because you made it happen.
Just because it did.
Just because it was always going to.
This is not about abandoning motion.
It’s about softening the grip.
You can still make lists.
Still have dreams.
Still move your body, your hands, your voice into the world.
You don’t have to pretend to be passive.
You don’t have to reject what feels alive.
And then, maybe, you see this:
You are not the one doing any of it.
Even your structure, even your striving, even your deepest devotion to the doing—
was never yours to begin with.
It was always life, playing.
And the moment you see that,
your shoulders drop.
And whatever happens next—
doing or not doing,
moving or stillness—
is already enough.
(And maybe, without meaning to,
you exhale.
Because the tension never needed fixing.
It just unraveled.
On its own.)
Love,
P.S.: You’ll always move.
You’ll always do.
But none of it was ever up to you.
Ready for the deeper truth?
Read this:
Nothing to fix. Nothing to manifest. (You couldn’t even if you tried.)
P.P.S.: If my words resonate, my work might too.
You’ll find ways to go deeper here.
P.P.P.S.: Liked this piece?
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