There once was man with a shovel. He wielded it masterfully. He could dig holes with the best of them. But over time he became distressed and discomforted by his craft.

The holes he dug were deep and wide. So great were the hole he dug that he often found himself struggling to be able to climb out of them. He spent so much time digging that rarely was anyone around to assist him in his time of trouble.

His hands, too, were killing him. He’d developed callouses on his hands over time, which was good at first, but eventually the ache became too much to bear. He loved to dig holes, but what he loved to do was painfully agonizing to him.

One day, a friend sees the masterful hole digger in his time of misery. “Just let go of the shovel!” he exclaimed. “You can’t dig any holes without a shovel in your hand.”

This made sense, but it was not so easy to do. After all, he was a hole digger. It was as if the shovel was made for his hands. But the shovel was also destroying him.

Why is it so difficult to let go of what’s destroying us?