Yesterday, I was watching an NFL documentary when something Kirk Cousins said stopped me in my tracks. Reflecting on a challenging season, he shared:
“When I try to make things happen, it doesn’t work.”

It struck me — not because I’ve ever played professional football — but because I deeply understand what it’s like to try to force solutions when life isn’t unfolding the way I think it should.

Many years ago, when I first entered the rooms of Al-Anon, I was introduced to an entirely new way of approaching life. Al-Anon, a 12-step program for the friends and families of alcoholics, helped me begin to see that one of my default strategies for dealing with uncertainty was exactly that — forcing solutions.

If something wasn’t going how I believed it should go — even if I thought it was for the highest good of all — I would often leap into action. I’d overextend myself, take on too much, and do whatever I could to “make things right.” But over time, I began to see the toll this took — not just on me, but often on the very people I was trying to help. I came to understand that what I saw as helpful or necessary was sometimes just me wrestling life into submission, rather than allowing it to unfold in its own timing.

Even after years of personal work, I still sometimes fall into this old pattern. But hearing Kirk Cousins — a high-performing athlete under immense pressure — acknowledge the futility of trying to force outcomes, gave me a fresh wave of clarity. He described how, when the game wasn’t going well, his instinct was to take control and try to create big plays. But the more he tried to force things, the more mistakes he made — and the worse the outcome became.

And still, it made perfect sense to me. Of course he wanted to win. Of course he wanted to lead. But it turns out that striving too hard, even with the best intentions, can sometimes make things worse. What struck me most wasn’t just his words, but his humility — his recognition that he’s not actually the one in charge, that true success comes not from controlling the game, but from trusting his preparation, his teammates, and his own inner compass.

That resonated deeply. Like Kirk, I’ve had to learn that I’m not here to control the outcome — I’m here to be a vessel, fully equipped with inner guidance. When I listen to that guidance, and allow it to lead — rather than bulldozing ahead with my own agenda — life not only becomes easier, but more joyful.

So often, the spiritual path is about surrender — not giving up, but giving over our will to something greater, something wiser. When I stop fighting life on life’s terms, and trust that I’ll be guided at the right time in the right way, I find myself far less exhausted, and far more at peace.

It’s taken years for me to understand that I don’t need to force solutions — and that doing so can actually block the very outcomes I’m trying to create. There is a deep well of inner resourcefulness in each of us, and it’s more than enough. But we have to trust it.

That moment, watching Kirk Cousins reflect on his mistakes, felt like more than just a passing comment in a sports documentary. It felt like a truth — a capital T Truth — delivered right on time. And maybe that’s the beauty of it all: even when things look messy, even when we’ve made mistakes, even when we’ve tried to take over — wisdom has a way of finding us.

🌿 “Trying to force life into the shape I think it should take never works. Trusting my inner guidance always does.”

So I leave you with this:

💭 Where in your life are you currently pushing — and where might you be invited to trust instead?

🛠️ Practice: The next time you feel the urge to control or fix something immediately, take one conscious breath. Ask yourself:

“Am I moving from fear or trust right now?”
That one moment of pause can change everything.

Here’s To Your Greatness,
Misti Burmeister