Unclenching

We were bringing over a fragile gingerbread house, precariously placed on the floor of our car’s back row, to a Christmas party. With every stop, swerve, and bump, I felt an involuntary pang of worry. My body tensed, my thoughts raced, and I caught myself clenching, both mentally and physically.

The gingerbread house arrived safely, and everyone loved it. But the ride wasn’t enjoyable for me. The concern and the clenching—it didn’t actually contribute to the house’s safe arrival. It just made the trip unpleasant.

Looking back, I realized this wasn’t just about a gingerbread house. This is how most of us go through life—clenched. We’re constantly on edge, worrying about what others think, stressing over unfinished tasks and goals, craving more, fearing failure, envious, judgmental, or bracing ourselves for what might go wrong. Even when things are fine, we’re often stuck in a low-grade state of tension.

A lot of this clenching is automatic and subconscious. It happens so fast, in microseconds, and so often that we hardly notice it. We just feel the aftereffects—tension in our necks, knots in our stomachs, a vague sense of unease. And while it might seem harmless, this constant clenching robs us of something crucial: presence and joy, almost like a blossoming lotus strangled by weeds.

To be fair, it mattered to us and others that the gingerbread house arrived intact. But the clenching? It didn’t help. We’d already done everything we could—driving carefully, avoiding sharp turns. Beyond that, the clenching was just noise, an exhausting habit my brain didn’t know how to let go of.

The truth is, clenching rarely changes the outcome of a situation. It’s our mind’s way of trying to “do something” even when there’s nothing left to do. But instead of helping, it keeps us trapped in a loop of worry and tension.

The key is learning to notice the clenching in the first place. This is harder than it sounds. Most of us are so used to living in this state that it feels normal. We don’t just experience clenching; we become it. We get caught up in our stress, fears, and frustrations, losing the ability to step back and see them for what they are. 

Much of Buddhism, and various contemplative paths, revolve around recognizing and letting go of these clinging states. Meditation, mindfulness, and introspection help us spot the roots of tension and either let them go or do something useful about them. It’s about pausing long enough to notice: “Oh, I’m clenching right now.” That simple act of noticing—without judgment—can be a game-changer. When you shine a light on your tension, it starts to loosen its grip.

Unclenching doesn’t mean we stop caring or trying. It just means we approach life with less resistance and more acceptance. Peace isn’t about adding something new to your life; it’s about letting go of what’s weighing you down - unclenching. And joy is just peace in motion.

So, the next time you catch yourself bracing—your jaw tight, your mind racing, your stomach knotted—pause. Take a breath. Ask yourself: “Is this clenching helping me or telling me something important? Is there something more I can do about the situation” And if the answer is no, let it go.

Because life isn’t just about arriving in one piece. It’s about enjoying the ride.