There is one phrase that has always made me uncomfortable: “If it’s mine, it won’t go anywhere.” It sounds beautiful. Almost spiritual. Even noble... You immediately picture someone sitting by a window in a white linen shirt, gazing into the distance while the Universe carefully arranges events behind the scenes, watches over human destinies, and delivers exactly what belongs to each person. It is a very convenient philosophy, especially in those moments when taking action feels frightening. When it is scary to admit your feelings, send a message, submit an application, start a project, state your intentions, say your truth for once, or risk hearing the word no. In those moments, the idea that “if it’s mine, it will stay” begins to look less like wisdom and more like a comfortable shelter for anxiety.

Imagine an airport after a long flight. The baggage carousel slowly turns, and suddenly your suitcase appears. The one with your name on it. The one carrying your clothes, your books, your favorite things, everything you carefully packed before your trip. But instead of walking over and picking it up, you remain standing at a distance. You fold your arms across your chest, put on your most enlightened expression, and say, “If this suitcase is truly mine, it isn’t going anywhere.”

The suitcase passes by... Then it comes around again.... And again.... 

Eventually, someone else grabs it, someone who has absolutely no interest in your philosophy of fate or your spiritual views on surrender. Or perhaps an airport employee removes it and sends it to the lost-and-found department. Meanwhile, you remain standing in the terminal, explaining the situation through karma, divine timing, and signs from the Universe. “Well, it wasn’t meant to be. The Universe redirected it. Clearly that suitcase was not part of my path.”

Viewed from the outside, the whole scene is absurd. Because the suitcase really was yours. Your name was attached to it. And it was passing in front of your eyes several times, as a chance for you to finally see the absurdity and grab it! Yes, there was only one small detail: if you wanted it to remain yours, you had to reach out and take it.

Sometimes I think we do exactly the same thing with our lives. We say we want love, yet never find the courage to speak honestly about our feelings. We dream about creating something meaningful, yet postpone the first article, the first application, or the first conversation for years. We long for change, yet continue waiting for the perfect moment, as if there is some magical day in the future when fear will simply disappear. We want to be seen, recognized, and understood, yet at the same time we do everything possible to remain hidden and avoid exposing ourselves to rejection.

In those moments, the phrase “if it’s mine, it will stay” stops sounding like trust in life and starts sounding like a very elegant way of avoiding vulnerability. As long as we do nothing, we cannot be rejected. As long as we never speak the important words, we never have to hear the answer. As long as we refuse to take a step forward, we can preserve the illusion that everything remains possible and that one day destiny will place our desires directly into our hands.

But life rarely works that way. Even the most fertile soil will not produce a harvest for someone who sits on the porch meditating on tomatoes. Seeds must be planted. They must be watered, protected, and given time to take root. Between desire and outcome lies the space of participation, and that is where most of life actually happens.

I sometimes think we misunderstand the word mine. We often imagine that if something truly belongs to us, it will naturally fall into our hands without effort. Yet reality tends to work differently. More often, what is “mine” is the thing that awakens a response within me. The thing that keeps drawing my attention back. The thing I think about before falling asleep. The thing that inspires me and frightens me at the same time. The thing that keeps calling, even when I try to ignore it.

But resonance alone creates nothing. It merely opens a door. Action must follow. Not necessarily dramatic action. Not some heroic leap. Sometimes it is a single conversation. A single email. A single phone call. One honest step toward what matters. Yet that step still has to be taken. Because our claim on anything is not established through desire or intention. It is established through participation.

Perhaps that is why the phrase “if it’s mine, it will stay” so often conceals fear rather than wisdom. Fear of rejection. Fear of competition. Fear of responsibility. Fear of discovering that what we want does not choose us in return. As long as we do nothing, we remain "safe". Then we can always say, “I didn’t fail. I simply trusted the Universe.” It is a far more comfortable explanation than admitting that we were afraid to risk disappointment.

Life, however, seems to be asking a different question. It is not interested in how beautifully we speak about trust and surrender. It asks whether we are willing to stop being spectators and become participants in our own story. Most opportunities do not enter our lives so that we can admire them from a distance. They arrive so that they can be lived.

At the same time, there is an important nuance here that is often overlooked. Action and control are not the same thing. Picking up your suitcase from the carousel is action. Planting seeds is action. Telling someone how you feel is action. Creating a project, making an offer, opening a door, taking a step forward... these are all forms of action. But there are things that cannot be achieved through force of will. You cannot make another person choose you. You cannot make someone mature before they are ready. You cannot walk another person’s path or learn their lessons for them.

This is where another trap appears. Some people hide behind the idea that “if it’s mine, it will stay” and never act at all. Others believe that if they want something badly enough, wait long enough, or push hard enough, the outcome must eventually happen. But human relationships are not baggage carousels. A person is not a suitcase. You cannot simply pull them off the conveyor belt and take them home because you have decided they belong to you.

That is why the most mature form of action sometimes looks very different from what we expect. It means speaking the truth. Expressing your feelings. Defining your boundaries. Taking your step forward. And then stopping long enough to allow another person to take their own step... or not.... beyond that point begins the territory of another person’s free will, and that is not ours to control.

For me, this is where the line between passivity and trust becomes visible. Passivity (from fear) says, “I will do nothing and see what happens.” Control says, “I will get what I want no matter what.” Trust sounds different. Trust says, “I will do everything that belongs to me. I will speak my truth. I will make my presence known. I will reach out my hand. Then I will allow life to reveal what belongs not only to me, but to something larger than me.”

And suddenly the phrase “if it’s mine, it will stay” begins to mean something entirely different. It is no longer an excuse for fear or an attempt to hand responsibility over to the Universe. Instead, it becomes a reminder that we must take our own step first. Because some doors do open on their own, but only after we have walked all the way up to them and placed our hand on the handle... and pulled...