What It Really Means to Let Go and Shine

Letting go doesn't always happen all at once.

When I first chose the name Let Go and Shine, I simply loved the idea behind those words.

My logo is a dandelion releasing its seeds into the air. A dandelion doesn't struggle to hold onto them. When the time is right, it lets them go. The seeds travel, settle somewhere new, and eventually more dandelions grow.

To me, that represented letting go and allowing something new to emerge.

But over the years, my understanding of what it actually means to let go and shine has changed considerably.

I've learned that human beings aren't quite as good at letting go as dandelions are.

And perhaps we're not supposed to be.

When Letting Go Isn't Quite So Simple

When I started Let Go and Shine, much of my work centred around Rapid Transformational Therapy (RTT®).

I went into my training excited and, looking back, probably a little naïve. I loved the idea that hypnosis could help us uncover something, work with it and experience rapid change.

And sometimes change can happen surprisingly quickly.

But when I began working with people, I also discovered something important.

Sometimes it doesn't.

A person can consciously want to change a behaviour, release a fear or move beyond an old belief — and still find pieces of it showing up again.

That realization changed the way I began thinking about hypnosis and, eventually, the meaning of the name I'd chosen for my business.

Because letting go isn't always about making something disappear.

Sometimes we need to understand why we're holding onto it in the first place.

Why Are You Still Carrying It?

Imagine someone wants to stop smoking.

Consciously, they may have every reason in the world to quit. They know it's unhealthy. They know it's expensive. They genuinely want to stop.

But what if smoking has also become associated with taking a break?

What if it's connected to stress, social situations, comfort or simply having ten minutes when nobody expects anything from them?

Those are only examples. We can't assume we know someone else's why.

We have to become curious about it.

That's one of the things I've come to appreciate about hypnosis. Rather than treating an unwanted behaviour, belief or reaction as something we simply need to get rid of, hypnosis can give us an opportunity to explore some of the associations and patterns that may be operating beneath our everyday conscious awareness.

Instead of immediately asking:

How do I make this go away?

I think there's another question worth asking first:

Why is this still here?

Sometimes understanding comes one layer at a time.

Peeling Back the Layers

Sometimes I think of this process as gently peeling back the petals of a rose.

We uncover one layer and discover another underneath.

Perhaps there's an old belief that began in childhood. Over the years, experiences were added to it. Reactions developed around it. Ways of protecting ourselves grew around those reactions.

We can't always expect something with roots that deep to disappear because we worked on it once.

And even after we've done a great deal of healing, something may occasionally trigger that old reaction again.

That doesn't necessarily mean we've gone backwards.

The difference may be that now we recognize it.

We can pause and think:

Oh. I know this feeling.

Instead of immediately reacting, we have an opportunity to respond.

We can become curious about what happened, what we're feeling and what that reaction might be showing us.

For me, that's become an important part of healing — not expecting ourselves to reach some magical point where nothing ever bothers us again, but becoming better at recognizing what is happening inside us without automatically allowing it to take over.

Why I Don't Use the “Magic Wand” Question

There's a question I've heard many hypnotists use during consultations:

“If I could wave a magic wand and change anything for you, what would it be?”

I've never felt completely comfortable with that question, although for a long time I couldn't quite explain why.

I think I understand it better now.

First, hypnosis isn't a magic wand. I can't say abracadabra, wave something over a problem and make it disappear. Framing hypnosis that way can create an expectation that change should be immediate and effortless.

And when it isn't, something much more troubling can happen.

Instead of questioning the promise, a person may begin questioning themselves.

Why didn't it work for me?

Maybe I'm not good enough.

Maybe I don't deserve this.

I never want someone leaving my office believing that they somehow failed at hypnosis because change wasn't instantaneous.

Sometimes there are layers. Sometimes something that has been with us for years takes time to understand. Sometimes we think we've reached the centre only to discover another petal underneath.

That doesn't mean the person failed.

It means they're human.

But there's another reason I've never been comfortable with the magic-wand question.

I'm not the one making the change.

The person sitting with me is.

My role isn't to magically fix someone. It's to help them become curious, explore what's underneath a behaviour, belief or response, and begin discovering what they may need in order to make change possible.

Sometimes that process leads to change surprisingly quickly.

Sometimes there are layers that need more time and attention.

Either way, the change doesn't belong to me.

If there is any magic in the process, perhaps it's in the moment someone begins to recognize that they have more ability to understand themselves, make different choices and create change than they realized.

Learning My Own Language

Curiosity begins with paying attention.

I've also learned that curiosity doesn't end when a hypnosis session does.

The more attention I've paid to my own intuition and my body's responses, the more I've begun noticing little patterns.

Here's a slightly strange example.

Sometimes when I'm talking about something that feels particularly significant or true for me, my forearms start itching.

Both of them.

In fact, while I was talking through my original notes for this very article, there they were — itching away.

Do I know exactly why?

No.

And I'm okay with that.

I've simply become curious enough to notice that it happens.

Maybe it's my body's way of getting my attention. Maybe one day I'll understand it differently.

The important part for me is that I'm learning to pay attention.

Over the past year especially, I've been learning to trust my intuition more. Instead of immediately dismissing a gut feeling, I'm more likely to stop and wonder:

Is there something here I should pay attention to?

That trust didn't arrive all at once either.

It has grown gradually.

Perhaps that's another form of letting go — releasing the need to have every answer before we're willing to trust ourselves.

And What About the “Shine” Part?

If the meaning of Let Go has changed for me, so has the meaning of Shine.

When I talk about helping someone shine, I'm not talking about ego.

I'm talking about showing up.

Being seen.

Being heard.

Being respected.

Having enough confidence to use your voice — while also having enough confidence to admit when you might be wrong.

It's being willing to lower your defences and become curious.

And it's allowing yourself to explore what gives your life meaning.

We sometimes make the idea of purpose unnecessarily enormous.

Your purpose doesn't have to be some grand spiritual mission.

Maybe you're wonderful at bringing people together.

Maybe you teach children.

Maybe you create art.

Maybe you love to cook, garden, write, care for people or make things with your hands.

There is something powerful about allowing the things that genuinely matter to us to have a place in our lives.

And particularly as we move through midlife, shining can become something very simple:

I have a voice.

I don't have to be a people pleaser.

I don't have to make myself smaller to keep everyone else comfortable.

I am allowed to show up as the person I am right now.

Not the perfect version.

Not the finished version.

The person I am today.

What Letting Go Looks Like in My Own Life

Of course, everything I've been talking about applies to me too.

One of the things I've been learning to let go of is my tendency to take responsibility for other people's problems and emotions.

I've spent a lot of my life being a problem solver.

Someone would tell me what was happening and I'd jump in.

Have you tried this?

Why don't you do that?

And if someone asked for my advice and then didn't take it, I could even find myself feeling disappointed.

I've been changing that.

Now I'm much more likely to ask:

What do you think you should do?

What choices do you have?

What might happen if you chose this? What about that?

And then comes the part that hasn't always been easy for me.

I let them decide.

I've realized that's how I want people to treat me.

I don't need someone to swoop in and save me every time I'm frustrated, worried or trying to work something out.

Sometimes I want someone to listen.

Sometimes I want another perspective.

And sometimes I simply need the space to figure it out myself.

If that's what I want for myself, I need to be willing to offer other people that same space.

I'm also becoming much less interested in people pleasing.

Someone being unhappy with one of my choices doesn't automatically mean I made the wrong choice.

And none of this happened because one day I announced, That's it! I'm letting go of people pleasing and fixing everybody's problems.

I noticed the pattern.

I became curious about it.

I started understanding why I did it.

And little by little, I've been responding differently.

Sometimes I still catch myself doing it.

That's the process.

What might become possible when we create a little more room?

What Am I Making Room For?

Maybe that's the part of letting go we don't talk about enough.

When we stop carrying something, we create space.

And lately, one word keeps appearing in my journalling:

Freedom.

I'll be completely honest.

I'm still not entirely sure what freedom means for me.

Some days I'm perfectly comfortable not knowing.

Other days, I'm awake in the middle of the night worrying about every little detail of my life.

And I can tell you this much:

That's not freedom.

Maybe figuring out what something isn't is sometimes part of discovering what it is.

And maybe I don't need to have the answer yet.

I can stay curious.

I can notice what makes me feel more like myself and what makes me feel less like myself.

I can pay attention to what I'm doing because I genuinely want to do it — and what I'm doing because I'm worried about disappointing someone else.

I can keep learning what I want to carry and what I'm ready to put down.

Perhaps that's what letting go has come to mean for me.

Not abracadabra, poof, it's gone.

Not erasing the past.

Not reaching some point where I'm never triggered, worried or uncertain again.

It's understanding myself a little better.

Recognizing the patterns that no longer fit.

Giving myself permission to respond differently.

And making a little more room for who I actually am.

And the Shine?

That's not some perfect version of me waiting at the end of all this work.

It's me showing up now.

Still learning.

Still curious.

Still occasionally awake at night worrying about things I can't control.

But increasingly willing to be seen, heard and to trust my own voice.

That's what Let Go and Shine means to me today.

And I'm sure it will continue to change.

Because I will too.