To Get What You Truly Need, Let Go Of What You Think Is Best For You

My learnings on how the universe's plans are often better than yours

As a kid, I was a planner — a dreamer with a clear vision.

My twelve-year-old heart was set on one thing: winning the school science fair to get that top-of-the-line telescope. I imagined myself discovering new stars, lost in the vast universe.

This wasn’t just a want. It felt like a need, a part of my identity.

As I sat with my grandfather on the porch the evening before the competition, sharing my grand ambitions, he listened intently before saying, “I don’t want to discourage or demotivate you, but, champ, the universe can have different plans. Be open to them.”

I nodded, not really understanding his words, as my mind was filled with stars and telescopes. I continued to bask in self-glory and marinate in the fantasy of winning.

The science fair arrived, and my excitement was palpable. I was so sure of my victory, so focused on that telescope, that the thought of losing never crossed my mind.

But life, as my grandpa said, had other plans. Pooja, a quiet girl from my class, with her project on bee conservation, snatched my victory.

Feeling defeated, I was about to leave when Pooja approached me. “I loved your volcano, Darshak. Would you like to see my bee garden sometime?” she asked. Reluctantly, I agreed, not realizing this invitation would open a new door in my life.

The loss at the science fair became the first of many lessons life had in store for me. I began to understand my grandfather’s words as he reminded me of them again after reaching home.

The same weekend, I visited Pooja’s garden. They lived in a rural area, some 10–15 km away from the city. His father's love for gardening and farming was evident. “No doubt Pooja aced her project,” I snarked.

The garden was a hidden paradise, alive with the hum of bees and the beauty of nature. She handed me a pair of binoculars to observe clearly.

It wasn’t the telescope I wanted, but at that moment, looking at those tiny 7- 8-legged insects, I felt a sense of wonder I had never experienced before. I was seeking wonder, and it found me. Not through a telescope but through binoculars and a new bond that developed with Pooja.

This unexpected joy reminds me of a quote by Rumi:

“What you seek is seeking you.”

As days turned into weeks, my disappointment over the science fair faded. I found myself drawn to different experiences.

I signed up for school drama, an idea that would have seemed absurd to me before. But I only did it to grab my only chance to be the center of attraction on “Easter Day.” Another reason was Pooja.

I sucked at acting. I knew it. The teacher knew it. The actors in the skit knew it. I fumbled with my lines. I killed the dialogue delivery timing. I made a mockery of the other actors on the big show.

However, everyone was supportive. Not a single person made me feel bad about myself. Maybe as kids, we didn’t judge one another for their mistakes. It taught me about expression and confidence, being kind and not judgemental.

When I talked about these changes to my grandfather, he nodded wisely and dropped another wisdom bomb, “To receive what you truly need, let go of what you think is best for you.”

This time, I asked for clarification.

He paused to think how he could explain it to me.

“Hey, did you know about Christopher Columbus and his quest?” he asked, his voice tinged with intrigue.

“No, what about it?” I responded, my curiosity piqued.

“Well,” he began, “Columbus was a famous explorer. He set out to find Asia, driven by dreams of wealth, spices, and silk.” I pictured Columbus sailing the vast, blue ocean, his eyes filled with hope and dreams and greed.

“But instead of Asia, he found something totally unexpected — the Americas!” Grandpa’s eyes sparkled as he revealed the twist.

“Wow, that’s like looking for a needle and finding a diamond!” I exclaimed, surprised.

“Exactly!” he said, laughing. “Columbus was after one thing but found something even more remarkable.”

I leaned back against the rocking chair, letting the story sink in. As a kid, it intrigued me how Columbus’s journey took such an unexpected turn. It made me think about life and my plans.

“Sometimes we’re so focused on what we want we don’t see the amazing things we actually get,” I mused aloud.

Grandpa nodded thoughtfully. “It’s like going on a treasure hunt and finding a different treasure than you’re looking for.”

“Yeah,” I added, “and sometimes, the new treasure is better than the one we thought we wanted.”

We sat in silence for a moment, lost in thought.

The story of Columbus had taken on a deeper meaning for me. It wasn’t just about an explorer. It was a lesson about life and expectations.

I learned that day that “Life is not about being stringent in what you want. It’s about embracing the surprises and finding joy in life's unexpected journeys, just like Columbus did.”

Now correlating this learning with my science fair failure deepened this spiritual fact in my mind.

With time, this philosophy of embracing life’s flow led me to more adventures.

I started volunteering at a local animal shelter, something I never considered before. There, I learned compassion and responsibility. I also joined a community kitchen, where I discovered my love for food and the peace it brings.

It wasn’t just about letting go of a single desire. It was about opening up to life’s limitless possibilities.

As I grew older, I used this philosophy to make some of my major life choices:

#1. Moving to Canada:

In my home country, I clung to a stable government job, believing it to be the pinnacle of security and success.

Fear often clouded my thoughts: “What if I lose this stability? What if I fail in a new country?”

Despite these fears, a deeper part of me yearned for something different. Something more. The decision to move to Canada was not just about geographical change or challenging my perceptions of security and comfort.

I believed I was destined for more. And this belief made me leave everything behind.

As Rumi famously said, “As you start to walk on the way, the way appears.”

The initial days in Canada were filled with uncertainty and a sense of disorientation. The comfort of familiarity was gone, replaced by the thrill and fear of the unknown.

From being a university lecturer in India to doing dishes in a restaurant in Canada, the journey taught me that true security lies not in a job or a place but in one’s ability to adapt and find joy in new beginnings.

#2. Choosing to Live Alone, Despite Being Offered To Live With My Sibling in Canada

Family is your safety net” was a belief deeply rooted in my upbringing. I was so used to living in a joint family of 28 members that the thought of living alone itself felt like a horror movie.

“How can I live all by myself? What if I fail? What if I feel lonely?” These questions plagued me. Yet, there was a voice within that craved independence and self-reliance.

Thích Nhất Hạnh once said, “Letting go gives us freedom.” Detachment isn’t about losing something but about gaining yourself.

The journey of living alone was transformative. It was about discovering my strengths and confronting my weaknesses. It taught me self-reliance and the art of finding joy in solitude. The silence of my apartment often became a fueling factor for introspection and creativity.

It made me realize that sometimes, to grow, you need to step out of the shadows of others and bask in your own light.

#3. Changing Careers at 30

At 30, when most people were settling into their chosen careers, I found myself at a crossroads. The societal narrative of a “stable career” weighed heavily on me.

I often thought, “Why am I not satisfied? I should be grateful for what I have.”

But a quiet voice inside me whispered of unfulfilled dreams and passions.

The Bhagavad Gita’s teaching, “True freedom is following your heart,” inspired me to leap of faith. Transitioning to a new career was not just about changing jobs but honoring my inner calling.

This journey was filled with self-doubt and fear of the unknown. Yet, each step forward in my new career felt like a piece of me coming alive.

This experience taught me that true contentment comes from aligning your profession with your passion, even if it means starting over from scratch.

Looking back, I realize that each step of letting go was a step towards something greater.

My life is richer and fuller than I could have planned.

It reminds me of a quote by Joseph Campbell:

“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”

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