Let It Be — The Song That Held Me
June 08, 2025
My personal reflection on why Let It Be by The Beatles resonates so deeply — and what it has meant to me during moments I couldn’t explain with words.
There’s something about Let It Be that reaches a place inside me I usually try to keep hidden.
Not because I’m ashamed of it — but because it’s so raw and wordless.
So when Paul sings “When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me…” — I don’t hear religion.
I hear a whisper of comfort I never had.
A kind of spiritual mother I created in my mind, just to survive.
Why It Hits So Deeply
The line “Speaking words of wisdom, let it be” isn’t passive to me.
It’s not defeat.
It’s surrender — the kind you come to after you’ve tried everything else.
It’s not about letting go because you don’t care.
It’s about letting go because you finally do.
It’s the ache of holding on too tightly for too long — to pain, to people, to perfection — and finally allowing yourself to stop.
A Song That Doesn’t Need Fixing
When I listen to Let It Be, I don’t feel like I need to become anything.
I don’t need to prove I’m healing.
I don’t need to perform wholeness.
It just meets me where I am — whether I’m on the floor in grief, walking alone in nature, or sitting in the bath unsure of what comes next.
It gives permission.
It says: “There will be an answer — not now, not perfectly — but eventually.
And in the meantime, you’re allowed to rest.”
Letting It Be — Without Giving Up
The song doesn’t ask me to forget.
Or pretend it doesn’t hurt.
It asks me to let it be.
Let the wound be seen.
Let the grief breathe.
Let the confusion exist without rushing to fix it.
Because sometimes, that’s the only way the answer comes at all — not through force, but through space.
It Feels Like Someone Finally Said, “It’s Okay.”
And maybe that’s what I’ve always needed most.
Not advice.
Not noise.
Not another expectation.
Just someone — or something — softly saying,
“It’s okay to not know. It’s okay to stop trying so hard. It’s okay to let it be.”
Let It Be isn’t just a song.
It’s a lullaby for the soul.
And I think I’ll always come back to it — especially in those moments when I forget that peace isn’t something I have to chase.
Sometimes, it finds me.
When I let it.