What if you weren't meant to carry it all?

Last week, while I was in the river, I looked up to see a buzzard circling overhead. It wasn't rushing or fighting against the wind. It simply found the rising air and allowed it to lift it effortlessly. There were moments when it barely seemed to move its wings at all, yet it remained high above the landscape, carried by something far greater than its own effort. It stayed with me long after I had left the water.

We often celebrate hard work, resilience and determination, and rightly so. There are times in life when we need every ounce of strength we possess. But somewhere along the way, many of us have begun to believe that everything must be carried through effort. We shoulder responsibilities that aren't ours, worry about things beyond our control and hold ourselves accountable for the happiness, comfort and wellbeing of everyone around us. We carry work home in our minds, replay conversations, anticipate problems that haven't happened and place impossible expectations on ourselves to somehow keep everything and everyone together. The weight builds so gradually that we barely notice it. We become so accustomed to carrying it that it starts to feel normal.

Nature offers a different perspective. The trees don't cling to leaves that have reached the end of their season. Rivers don't stop flowing because a rock stands in their way. The tide doesn't resist its rhythm, nor does the buzzard exhaust itself trying to remain in the sky. Each simply works with what is around it rather than against it. Perhaps that is a lesson we've forgotten.

Caring deeply doesn't mean carrying everything. Loving someone doesn't mean solving every problem they face. Being compassionate doesn't require us to absorb the worries of those around us until we have nothing left to give ourselves. Sometimes the greatest gift we can offer another person is our presence rather than our solutions. Sometimes the kindest thing we can offer ourselves is permission to put down the things that were never ours to carry in the first place.

I've noticed that whenever I begin to feel overwhelmed, it is rarely because of one significant challenge. More often, it's because I've quietly gathered dozens of small burdens along the way. The expectation to always be available. The pressure to have the answer. The feeling that I should do more, be more or somehow make everything better. None of those thoughts make me stronger. They simply make me weary.

Perhaps that's one of the reasons I return to nature time and time again. Not because it magically takes life's challenges away, but because it gently reminds me that there is another way to move through the world. A way that isn't driven solely by effort, but by trust. Trust that not everything depends on me. Trust that some things will unfold without my intervention. Trust that I don't have to hold the weight of the whole world on my shoulders.

As I watched the buzzard circling above the river, it occurred to me that it wasn't being held up by determination alone. It was allowing itself to be supported by something invisible. Maybe we need to remember that too.

This week, before you take on another responsibility, another worry or another burden, pause for a moment and ask yourself one simple question:

Is this really mine to carry?

You may find that the moment you put down what doesn't belong to you is the very moment you find the space to carry what truly does.