For a while, I struggled with a mental war between two actions: holding on and letting go. Both seemed equally valid, equally necessary, yet completely at odds with each other (and with themselves).
On one hand they are both considered as acts of faith, where holding on reflects faith in what we think matters, and letting go reflects faith in what is meant to be.
But on the other hand, they both reflect doubt on their own ways: holding on can feel like stubbornness by refusing to loosen our grip on what might already be slipping away, and letting go can feel like giving up on something we might later regret.
This conflict left me wondering: which way is right: holding on or letting go?
It wasn’t until I watched Singing in the Rain at Dubai Opera that I saw this dilemma in a new light. The performance brought the struggle between holding on and letting go to life, not just with words, but through movement, music, and emotion.
Under the spotlight, I realized that right or wrong isn’t tied to the simple acts of holding on or letting go. Instead, these actions find their meaning in deeper truths – truths about how we face change, how we navigate the images we build, and where we seek validation.
I came to see that the choice between holding on and letting go is never binary. Guided by these truths, they complement each other, so we hold on to what’s worth letting go for, and let go of what no longer serves what’s worth holding on to.
Some changes are much needed, like the ones we intentionally pursue when we decide to grow, improve, or evolve. These changes feel empowering, driven by a sense of purpose to create a better version of ourselves.
But some changes are forced upon us by external circumstances, making them far harder to handle. An economic downturn, a political crisis, organizational restructuring, or even the loss of someone we cherish. These events arrive uninvited, stripping away our sense of control and leaving us with no choice but to confront their reality, ready or not.
In these moments, clinging to what was may feel instinctive, offering the illusion of stability. Yet, the harder we hold on, the more it weighs us down to an outdated past, leaving no space for what can possibly be.
The characters in Singing in the Rain faced a monumental shift as the film industry transitioned from silent movies to talkies. This change threatened the very foundation of their craft and forced them to confront a new reality beyond their control.
Lina, a star of the silent era, clung to the past with relentless resistance. Her exaggerated expressions and glamorous persona, once perfect for silent films, became a liability in the new age of sound. Instead of adapting, Lina fixated on her limitations, refusing to let go of the past she knew and the image she had built. Her resistance not only made her stuck in a fading era but also disconnected her from the opportunities of the present and future.
In contrast, Don, another silent film star, initially struggled to adjust but eventually embraced the change. Letting go of how things had been, he freed himself from the weight of resistance. His transformation is beautifully symbolized in the iconic scene where he sings and dances in the rain, a joyful acceptance of the unknown.
By releasing the past, Don not only found his place in the talkies but also thrived, transforming the transition into an opportunity to innovate by creating a groundbreaking musical.
As human beings wired for survival, it’s natural to resist change. We cling to the past because it feels safe, familiar, and within our control. But not everything can be held onto, and not every change can be resisted.
Some changes are out of our hands. We cannot dictate the actions of others, rewrite circumstances, or bend the world to our will, can we? At best, we can express ourselves, take thoughtful actions, and try to influence the outcome (with care and honesty). But there’s always a limit.
When we refuse to acknowledge those limits, resistance weighs us down. It ties us to what no longer serves us, keeping us stuck where we are, even as the world moves forward, making no space at all for who we can become.
Clinging to the past doesn’t just weigh us down, it pulls us into patterns we can’t see clearly in the moment.
We may find ourselves playing roles or manipulating narratives to justify what’s slipping away, unaware of how these efforts reshape the way we move forward. And sometimes, these roles take on a life of their own, dragging us further from the truth we hoped to protect.
This is especially true with the images we create, what starts as a reflection of ourselves can quickly become a mask we cling to. At first, it may feel like a way to connect with others or project who we want to be. But over time, it becomes an identity we refuse to let go of, even when it no longer serves us.
When these images are built on pretense, they stop reflecting who we are and start distorting us.
Such a foundation can’t hold, it’s destined to collapse.
Lina’s refusal to adapt to the new era of talkies wasn’t just resistance to change, it became a performance in itself. She clung to the glamorous image she had built in the silent film era, viewing herself through a distorted lens of perfection that no longer aligned with reality. Instead of confronting her limitations, she played a game of pretense, forcing the producers to use Kathy’s voice to maintain the illusion of her success.
But pretense is destined to fail. When the audience demanded Lina sing live, the truth began to unravel. Even then, she resisted, insisting Kathy to step in again to sustain the illusion.
Lina’s need to protect her image drove her to manipulate reality, dragging everyone around her into her facade. Until her distorted lens didn’t just expose her, it revealed the cost of clinging to pretense: a fragile, unsustainable reality that crumbled under the weight of truth.
Pretense can feel like a shield, protecting us from judgment, rejection, or the discomfort of vulnerability. At first, it may seem harmless, even useful. Small adjustments to fit in or maintain an image can feel like they’re smoothing the edges of life’s challenges. But over time, these adjustments can become a performance, demanding constant effort and complicity.
This is the paradox of pretense: what begins as a tool to protect us often ends up controlling us. The more we hold onto an image, the more fragile and exhausting it becomes. And no matter how carefully it’s constructed, truth has a way of surfacing, often when we least expect it.
True freedom doesn’t come from maintaining a flawless image, it comes from embracing who we truly are, imperfections and all. Letting go of the facade allow us to reclaim the strength and to live authentically, without the weight of pretense pulling us away from the life we’re meant to live.
The image we present to the world often feels tied to our sense of worth. We shape it, polish it, and chase the approval that keeps it alive. At first, that approval feels exhilarating, like fuel to keep going. But over time, the pursuit of validation becomes exhausting, a cycle of striving, adjusting, and endlessly seeking to meet the shifting expectations of others.
This constant chase doesn’t just drain us; it pulls us further from ourselves!
This is where validation takes center stage, not just as a fleeting sense of approval, but as the force that determines where we truly anchor our worth. When it comes from others, it feeds the image we’ve created but leaves us perpetually chasing more. When it comes from within, it frees us, anchoring us in the quiet strength of authenticity.
Before the advent of sound cinema, Kathy believed that acting should be rooted in substance, not the exaggerated glamour demanded by silent films. Staying true to her values meant letting go of widespread recognition and remaining a barely known stage actor. Yet, in her own frame, she was valid and whole, independent of the size of the applause.
When the era of talkies arrived, Kathy’s internal validation guided her once again. Despite the opportunity to claim the spotlight, she chose to dub Lina’s voice, not for fame or recognition, but to contribute meaningfully and uphold the integrity of the production. Far removed from the allure of image-building, Kathy stayed aligned with her values.
Holding on to her beliefs during the silent era may have costed her the same price Lina paid when sound was introduced: a lack of recognition in a changing industry. Yet, whether she could have compromised or not didn’t matter to Kathy. The opinions of the producers (or anyone else) were secondary to the compass of her own validation. What mattered was staying true to what made her feel whole and authentic.
Because she refused to chase fame or approval at the expense of her beliefs, Kathy’s talent and truth naturally shone through, earning her recognition on her own terms.
The source of our validation determines the direction of our lives. When it’s external, we become prisoners of others’ opinions, chasing applause that is fleeting and often out of reach. This pursuit traps us in a cycle of striving for perfection, not for ourselves, but for an image shaped by the shifting preferences of others.
Internal validation, on the other hand, is liberating. It anchors us in authenticity and gives us the courage to act in alignment with our values, even when it means walking a lonelier or less glamorous path. It frees us from the exhausting game of seeking approval and allows us to find fulfillment in our truth, regardless of recognition.
There’s a quiet power in knowing that our worth isn’t tied to someone else’s applause. It’s not always easy to hold on to our own beliefs, especially when the world around us demands otherwise. But when our validation comes from within, we’re no longer living for an audience, we’re living for ourselves.
True freedom comes not from being seen, but from being true to ourselves, even when no one else is looking.
The interplay between holding on and letting go pushes us to confront questions far deeper than deciding which act is right. The real question lies in asking: what truly sets us free?
When guided by what feels true to us, we uncover a freedom that defies the logic of the world. We come to see that holding on to what others dismiss can sometimes be the bravest choice. And letting go of what everyone else clings to can sometimes be the wisest.
When guided by what feels true to us, we might find it so wrong to hold on to a flourishing garden, even when its beauty feels undeniable. And we might find it so right to let go of a sinking ship , even when the waters below are terrifyingly vast.
Freedom is not about following the world’s expectations. It’s about finding the courage to honor what resonates within us, even when it doesn’t make sense to anyone else.
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