When I was younger, growing up in the Mojave Desert, the wind would sometimes gust up to 50 or 60 miles an hour. We’d raise our coats above our heads and turn them into makeshift sails. It was the greatest fun—leaning into the wind, sometimes at what felt like a 45-degree angle, trying to hold our ground.
When we were done playing, we’d pull our coats down, fasten them tight, tuck our arms in, and lean forward.
The wind hadn’t changed. But the resistance had. We could move again.
I see a lesson for my life in that memory.
Life has wind. Responsibilities, work, family, financial concerns. Some days it’s steady; other days it comes in gusts that make it hard to keep my footing.
But how much harder do I make it by raising my own sail?
I get big. My opinions need to be heard. My way needs to be followed. Someone else’s behavior needs to be corrected. I leave my lane and start directing traffic in everyone else’s.
Suddenly, I’m carrying the frustration of things I have no authority to change. I inflate a disagreement into a personal offense. I turn a concern into a catastrophe. I decide someone else’s choices are my responsibility, then get upset when they won’t take my direction.
There I am again, holding my coat above my head, wondering why life is pushing so hard against me.
Some of that resistance is real. Some of it is the extra drag I create.
Eckhart Tolle writes in The Power of Now, “The ego believes that in your resistance lies your strength.”
That takes me right back to the desert. How often do I mistake the strain of trying to control everything for strength? I dig in, make myself bigger, and insist that life—or another person—move my way.
Pulling my coat in didn’t mean I had given up. It allowed me to move forward. I see humility the same way. When I release my need to manage everyone and everything, I have more strength for the responsibilities that actually belong to me.
For me, that begins with getting honest with God about where my responsibility ends and my desire for control begins.
Scripture puts it plainly:
“And that ye study to be quiet, and to do your own business, and to work with your own hands, as we commanded you.” — 1 Thessalonians 4:11, KJV
“To do your own business.” That gives me plenty to work on.
I have an attitude to tend to. Words to choose carefully. Commitments to honor. People to love. I can offer help without insisting that it be accepted. I can care about an outcome without trying to force it.
Getting small means remembering that I am one person, with a part to play. I can take that part seriously and still leave room for God—and for other people—to do theirs.
When I pull in the coat of my ego, I begin to feel the difference. The same responsibilities are there, but I’m no longer adding every opinion, disagreement, and imagined outcome to the weight of the day.
Sometimes I pray for God to calm the wind. And sometimes, in the quiet, I realize I’m still holding up my coat.
Maybe today I need to bring my arms in, lean forward, and take the next step that is actually mine to take.
The wind may still blow. But I don’t have to give it such a big sail.
Prayer
God, help me recognize the unnecessary resistance I create. Show me when I’ve left my lane and made someone else’s business my own. Give me the humility to release what I cannot control, the courage to handle what belongs to me, and the trust to leave the rest with You. Amen.
