Walking Down Stairs – Part 10
Letting Go of Outcomes
The Art of Detachment That Unlocks Clarity
There’s a kind of suffering that doesn’t scream.
It doesn’t come from crisis or collapse.
It comes from subtle, slow attachment to outcomes that were never guaranteed.
You think:
“That client was supposed to choose us.”
“That offer was supposed to come together.”
“That plan was supposed to work.”
And when it doesn’t?
It doesn’t just sting — it stops you.
You lose minutes, then hours, then days—turning it over in your head, trying to fix what already moved on.
You rehearse the conversation again. You explain it to yourself or others. You linger.
You grip the outcome like it still belongs to you.
But it doesn’t.
Instagram Detour. Richard is Funny Too. Ya gotta watch this one.
You Cannot Control the Finish Line
Let’s be clear: wanting is not the problem.
You’re allowed to want things.
To care.
To try.
To aim.
But you cross a line when your peace depends on it.
When you can’t move unless you know it will work.
When you stall because something didn’t go your way, and that failure becomes an identity.
This is when you fall and stumble down the stairs….you trip and fall because you begin thinking about the movement of a particular step rather than the motion that leads to the next step and the final stair landing.
No it is not motion.
It is a chokehold. A freezing on the stairs and a stumble.
Real Life: When It Doesn’t Go Your Way
In our business, we feel it too.
There are moments when we get fired by a client—or watch a listing expire and go to another agent.
Someone we’ve poured energy into walks away.
A relationship doesn’t renew.
A conversation fizzles.
And if you’re still in the mindset that every outcome must be part of a goal—it bites.
It gnaws at your confidence.
It slows your action.
It becomes something bigger than it really is.
But over time, we’ve come to learn this:
If you’re walking down stairs, and one step creaks or cracks, you don’t stop walking.
You adjust.
You sharpen.
You move on.
That person wasn’t your future. That deal wasn’t the destination.
You just keep going—because you’re not moving for the outcome. You’re moving because it’s who you are to move. You never stop learning. You do modestly introspect as if you stepped on a thumbtack.
Detachment Is Not Apathy. It’s Access.
This is the misunderstanding:
People think detachment means you don’t care.
No.
Detachment means you care enough not to get derailed.
Detachment means you still learn—but you don’t freeze.
Detachment means you feel the sting—but you don’t drag it into tomorrow. You pull out the thumbtack quickly.
You observe. You reflect. You refine.
You ask:
What could I have done better?
Was I in integrity?
Did I communicate clearly?
Was I listening?
And then?
You toss the paper.
You take the next step.
You make the next call.
You serve the next person.
No fanfare. No self-punishment. Just presence.
You’re Not Here to Win Every Moment
Some moments are meant to strip you.
To humble you.
To show you where you were gripping too tight.
To remind you that you don’t own the outcome — you only own the quality of your action.
The loss wasn’t a judgment.
It was feedback.
It was adjustment.
It was subtraction for the sake of alignment. Subtraction is sometimes the best addition.
You’re still here.
You still have people to help.
You still have good work to do.
And when you let go of that one thing that didn’t go right?
You make space to do it better with the next one that will. You learn to let go faster by staying in the NOW of the next step.
The Return to Clarity
All of this comes back to one truth:
Attachment clouds. Detachment clears.
When you’re stuck on a single outcome, on one stair, everything becomes reactive.
You can’t see the horizon.
You can’t hear your instinct.
You can’t move clearly.
But once you let it go—not deny it, just release it—you return to center.
You can see again.
You can breathe again. You know you do not think to breathe either.
And most importantly, you can serve again.
Try This
Think of one recent outcome that didn’t go your way. Better yet think of the most recent and think of one sometime ago and ask yourself, are you moving to the next stair quicker now with less thought? Or ask yourself this, if someone told you you had 5,000 days left to live and the last 30 would be pretty bad would you stress anymore? You would not until day 4,969. More on this later.
Is there Something you’re still gripping?
A call that didn’t come.
A deal that didn’t close.
A moment where you felt invisible or rejected.
Then ask:
Am I still carrying this because I believe it defines me? Am I repeating a pattern of tripping on stairs?
Is this loss blocking the next right step I already know how to take?
Can I learn something from this without letting it sit in my hands?
Now—release the grip.
You can still care.
You can still learn.
But the story doesn’t need to stay on your shoulders.
Let go.
Move forward.
Walk down the next stair—calm, clear, and free.
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