Let Go or Stay Stuck: The Brain’s Greatest Dilemma

Alex Honnold clings to a granite wall, 2,000 feet above the valley floor. There is no rope, no harness, no room for error—only his hands and feet anchoring him to the rock. The sun casts warmth across the granite, but below him stretches an endless void. For most, this scene would be paralyzing, but for Alex, it is the culmination of years of precision and discipline.

And yet, he hesitates.

The next move isn’t obvious. His eyes scan the wall, seeking a path forward, measuring each possibility against the risks. Climbing is never just about strength; it’s about the mental calculus of knowing when to hold on and when to let go. Staying feels secure, but only for a moment—progress requires release.

But climbing—like life—isn’t just about reaching the next step. It’s about letting go of the one you’re on.

The Brain’s Reluctance to Let Go

Scientists have studied Alex’s brain, fascinated by how he can remain composed in situations that would overwhelm almost anyone else. His amygdala—the part of the brain that processes fear—remains unusually quiet. Where most of us would feel our instincts screaming at us to stop, Alex’s brain stays calm, as if the danger isn’t there.

But even Alex pauses before he moves. Because letting go isn’t just about the fear of falling—it’s about something far more entrenched. Being cautious is one way the brain protects us, but it’s only the surface layer of a much deeper mechanism. Letting go means confronting an entire network of instincts designed to anchor us in place—to people and things that are familiar, and to the comfort of what feels safe.

The human brain has evolved to prioritize survival above all else. Familiarity, even when it’s painful or limiting, signals safety. The known is predictable, and predictability feels secure. Letting go, by contrast, forces the brain to confront the unknown—a prospect it treats as inherently risky.

This reluctance isn’t just emotional; it’s also practical. The brain, ever the efficient machine, resists disrupting established patterns. Neural pathways are built through repetition, creating shortcuts that require little effort to follow. Holding on feels natural, effortless. Letting go demands something entirely different: a costly reconfiguration that the brain actively tries to avoid.

Alex’s muscles burn, his forearms trembling under the strain. His body screams for him to move, warning that he cannot hold this position much longer. Yet his brain resists, clinging to the illusion that staying put is safer. The fear of the unknown, the effort required to act, the false comfort of remaining where he is, and the pull of familiarity all conspire against the truth: he cannot stay here forever. The brain whispers that holding on is better than facing the uncertainty ahead, even as his body makes it clear that he must act before it’s too late.

Alex Honnold’s free solo climb of Heaven, a 3,000-foot vertical wall with a 40-foot overhang in Yosemite.

When Life Demands Movement

We face the same struggle in our own lives, whether it’s leaving a job that no longer fulfills us, a relationship that limits us, a tradition that feels hollow, or a belief that no longer aligns with who we are. Like Alex’s burning muscles, there are moments when everything within us urges us to let go and move forward. Yet our brains resist, clinging to the comfort of what’s familiar, conserving energy, avoiding risk, and insisting that staying is safer—even when every sign points otherwise.

And sometimes, it isn’t just an internal voice urging us forward. Sometimes, the times and circumstances themselves demand that we change. An industry collapses under the weight of automation, a long-standing institution is reshaped by shifting cultural norms, a way of life is upended by technological disruption, or deeply held beliefs are challenged by undeniable truths. Even then, even when life leaves no room to remain where we are, we cling, unable to release what once felt secure. It’s not logic or courage that holds us back—it’s the deep, primal instinct to stay anchored, even as the world tells us it’s time to move.

How We Move Forward

Understanding why we struggle to let go is only the first step. The harder part is deciding to act, to override the brain’s resistance and push through its instinct to cling to what feels familiar. Letting go isn’t just a moment of bravery—it’s a learned skill, one that requires us to deliberately reframe, reimagine, and reconfigure the way we approach change.

This is why I need everyone—and every organization—to understand that being stuck doesn’t mean you’re failing. You’re stuck because it’s the nature of the brain to resist disruption, to prioritize familiarity, and to avoid uncertainty. But we are living in a time when we no longer have the luxury of staying in one place. The world is shifting rapidly beneath our feet, and the cost of holding on is no longer just personal discomfort—it’s irrelevance, decay, or collapse.

The Processes That Free Us

For Alex to climb upward, he has to confront his brain’s resistance. The same is true for all of us. To let go, you need to interrupt the brain’s natural tendency to anchor itself to the known:

1. Curiosity: Reframing Fear as Exploration

Curiosity transforms the unknown into something worth discovering. Alex doesn’t view the next hold as a risk; he sees it as an unanswered question. In our own lives, curiosity allows us to shift focus from what we might lose to what we might gain. Asking What if? opens the door to possibility and helps us see uncertainty as an adventure rather than a threat.

2. Granularity: Breaking Down the Overwhelming

The brain often catastrophizes change, viewing it as a monumental and unmanageable task. Granularity counters this by breaking the challenge into smaller, actionable steps. Alex doesn’t focus on the summit—he focuses on the next three feet. In life, this means identifying the smallest step forward and focusing only on that. Granularity quiets the noise of overwhelm, making progress feel achievable.

3. Optimism: Believing in a Better Future

Optimism is the quiet acknowledgment that what you’re about to do is, in fact, possible. It’s not some extraordinary act or unattainable effort—it’s within reach, grounded in tools and skills you already have. Alex can be optimistic because climbing is something he knows intimately. He’s done it hundreds of times before. The terrain may be different, the stakes higher, but he is confident because he understands the task. He knows it can be done.

Ask yourself: is what you’re attempting truly impossible, or is it something you already understand? If you’ve been in a relationship before, then starting a new one isn’t beyond you. If the job you want, or the one you’re creating for yourself, involves skills you already possess or knowledge you’ve gained, why wouldn’t you succeed? If adapting to new technology or systems is something you’ve managed before, why wouldn’t you manage it again?

Optimism is a conversation with your brain—a way of examining your goal and reminding yourself that the unknown isn’t as unfamiliar as it seems. It’s not about blind faith but about reassuring yourself that moving forward isn’t uncharted territory. It’s simply the next step on a path you’ve walked before.

Why We Must Let Go Now

For individuals and organizations alike, the stakes have never been higher. The world is accelerating—industries are evolving, societal norms are shifting, and technology is rewriting the rules of how we live and work. The cost of staying still has never been greater.

You are not stuck because you lack talent, resources, or vision. You are stuck because it is the nature of the brain to hold on, to resist, to fight change. But the truth is, we are no longer living in a time where holding on is an option. Survival, growth, and flourishing all demand movement, and movement demands letting go.

The Final Ascent

At last, Alex moves. His fingers release the hold, his weight shifts upward, and his hand finds the next edge. It is deliberate and fluid, a motion that comes not from instinct but from years of practice—physical, mental, and emotional.

Letting go is not about abandoning what you value but about trusting that progress requires release. A climber does not let go carelessly; they let go because they know they must. They let go because they’ve trained for the moment when holding on becomes unsustainable, when the only path forward is to reach for something new.

The art of climbing mirrors the art of letting go. It is not an act of recklessness but one of precision and trust. It requires us to listen to the signals—whether from our muscles, our hearts, or the world around us—and recognize when staying in place is no longer an option. And, most importantly, it requires us to trust that the unknown ahead is worth the risk of leaving the familiar behind.