Mel Robbins, The Buddha and the Marlboro Man All Walk Into A Bar:

Mel Robbins, the Buddha and the Marlboro Man all walk into a bar: The set-up to one heck of a punchline – the ultimate nature of the universe – or perhaps, a fever dream on the plane ride back from French Polynesia.

There’s a Buddhist principle I first encountered in my twenties—during a haze of Marlboros and metaphysics—that’s been coming back to me lately with unnerving clarity. It’s the idea that desire is the root of all suffering, and that the inability to exert ANY control over this fact is the ultimate nature of the universe. 

At the time this was introduced to me, the lesson was illustrated using cigarettes: You fear the suffering that will come when you run out. So, you hoard them. You plan. You strategize. But eventually they’ll get wet, or be stolen, or you’ll find yourself in a place—perhaps a hospital—where access is impossible. You tried to outsmart suffering, and still, it found you. It will ALWAYS find you, eventually.

The lesson? You cannot control this life. Suffering doesn’t arrive because you did something wrong. It arrives because that’s the deal. That’s the ultimate nature of the universe – on a long enough timeline you simply cannot guarantee the outcome you desire.

This came rushing back to me recently as I stared out over a Tahitian beach—stranded on what should have been a dreamy 48-hour layover, yet unable to do either of the two small things I’d envisioned for this brief island escape. I had paid a premium for the privilege of disappointment. And oddly enough, it made me laugh.

In that moment, I met the “ultimate nature of the universe” again: even when everything seems arranged just right, you might not get what you want. And the pain doesn’t only stem from the loss itself—but from the expectation that things should be different. We cling, we chase, we hope, we fantasize, and when reality doesn’t comply, we often choose to suffer.

This time I chose to personify the universe with a hearty, “Let Them” … and then lost my mind laughing at how preposterously, wonderfully silly it would be to choose to focus on my discontent while sitting in a literal paradise simply because the day I had planned fell through. 

Dispatches from somewhere over the Pacific

On the plane ride home I finished reading Mel Robbins’ buzzy new book, Let Them. Despite its pop-coaching packaging, the core message was familiar. Let them judge you. Let them misunderstand. Let them take that misguided action. Let them. Have you also heard this one before?

Buddhism, Stoicism, even the Serenity Prayer all nod to the same idea: our peace begins when we embrace where our control ends. And isn’t that exactly the work so many of us are trying to do—not just on vacation, but in everyday life?

For me, one challenge is how to bring the vacation energy back—not just the calm, but the clarity. What if I stopped expecting my job to give me what it never has? What if I took bigger risks of vulnerability to achieve my goals? What if I focused more on the journey than the destination?

Othello and the Eyes of Others

Right after I got back home I went to see Othello (having had the good fortune to buy pre-sale, I was in my cozy rear mezz center seat for a small fraction of the eye-popping price tags you’ve been hearing about). And the final scenes—so brutal and so tragically human—kept turning over in my mind. Othello is undone not only by jealousy, but by the idea of who he is supposed to be, especially in the eyes of others. His honor, his name, his identity—wrapped up in outside perception.

Isn’t that another form of desire? The craving to be seen a certain way, to control how others narrate our story or hold our memory?

Let them, Robbins might say.

Let them misinterpret. Let them project. Let them judge you however they wish. What matters most is the Let me, what you choose to do in the aftermath and how you feel about this version of yourself you know to be true - warts and all.

And that, I think, is where all of this begins to connect: the layover, the book, the play, the unfulfilled plans, the occasional discontent. It’s not about having what we want. It’s about how we hold what we have. It’s really anchoring on the “let me” and forging forward with our attention on the present effort, and how it feels to exercise some control over the situation. – especially as we appreciate it is not permanent or perfect. It is just this moment and we cannot guarantee the next. 

Can we let go—just a little—of our desire for certainty, our need for control, our hunger for external validation?

Can we trust that life, even when it doesn’t go to plan, is still offering us something valuable?

Can we reach out with vulnerability to get the help and support we need to execute the “let me” plans that will bring empowerment? 

Let me help you to let them

If you find that this resonates, and are looking for a community to help with your next stage of “Let me” planning, check out this unique opportunity to be a part of my next group coaching cohort free of charge!