In my blog post, The Wanderer – or the Art of Letting Go, I wrote about letting go of the burdens we carry around. But there’s also another kind of letting go. One that’s more tender and sometimes more painful: letting go of people. And I’m not talking about the kind of letting go we do for our own well-being – cutting ties with someone who drains us or stepping away from toxic relationships. I’m talking about something else entirely. Letting go of people we care about. People who matter. People we’d rather hold close. At first, that might sound strange. Why let go of someone who is important to us? But if you’ve ever moved, changed, grown, or simply lived long enough, you know: there are plenty of situations in life that require us to learn to let go of those people.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels
I’m sure you know the feeling. Life changes. You change. Or – sometimes harder to accept – other people change. And suddenly, your relationships shift. Friends move away, move on, or drift into a different phase of life. You might find yourself left behind, trying to adjust to a new dynamic you didn’t choose. Maybe they’re busy with work or family, or their priorities have shifted. Maybe they’ve made new friends. Or maybe you’re the one who’s moved away. And even if you try to stay in touch, sometimes those connections fade anyway – slowly, quietly, without anyone meaning to let them go. Some people are great at staying close, regardless of the distance. For others, that’s much harder. And when the calls become less frequent, the messages fewer, and the silence stretches out… sometimes all that’s left is to let go.
I was confronted with this phenomenon quite often in my childhood. I attended a French school in Germany, which meant that many of my classmates were only temporarily in Germany, as long as their parents’ occupation required it. Most of them stayed for 3 or 6 years before moving on to the next country. And every year, new children arrived. As a result, I came into contact with a diverse group of people early in life who led a somewhat nomadic lifestyle. This probably also contributed to nourishing my own passion for travel. But more than that, it meant that many of my friends were only temporarily in my immediate vicinity. I had to learn to let friends go and try to keep in touch from a distance – long before we had smartphones and social media. And I was confronted over and over again with the question of how much I was willing to get involved with someone, when I knew from the start that our time was limited.
And since I chose the digital nomad lifestyle, I continue to experience this phenomenon. Living this way is a perpetual exercise in letting go of people who come into my life for a short period of time. We cross paths, we connect – sometimes just in passing, sometimes more deeply. We talk, we laugh, we share. And then one of us leaves. It happens all the time. And still, it never feels casual. Even fleeting moments can be meaningful. And sometimes, the shortness of time brings a kind of clarity to the connection – it strips away small talk and leads straight to the real stuff.
Of course, many encounters remain superficial, but sometimes it is precisely those same circumstances that lead to deep and touching conversations and meetings. And then, again: you have to let go. Maybe you stay in touch, and maybe you meet again one day. But first of all, you have to let go. Enjoy the (sometimes brief) moments spent together. And realise that an encounter is not worth less because it is of short duration. And even if we will never meet again, I will keep that encounter, that look, conversation, touch, in my memory and my heart. It has enriched me. Letting go is not always easy, but the joy of these encounters dominates. And so I practice it every day: With every goodbye, every departure, every exhale. Letting go. Again.
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