Choose Love, Not Attachment — Even Krishna Did That

We’ve all been there - clinging tightly to something we think is love. Holding on, not because it’s right, but because we’re afraid of what happens if we don’t. We call it loyalty. We call it effort. Sometimes, we even call it fate. But more often than not, it’s just attachment dressed up as love. And if you’re someone who believes in timeless wisdom, here’s something to consider: even Krishna, the symbol of divine love, chose love over attachment. And in doing so, he taught us something most of us spend our lives trying to figure out.

Radha and Krishna. We romanticize them endlessly. But the truth is—they didn’t end up together. Not in the way we expect lovers to. And yet, their bond remains one of the most celebrated forms of love in human history. Why? Because it was never about ownership. Krishna didn’t “leave” Radha in the way we think of abandonment. He walked forward on a path that wasn’t hers to follow, not out of apathy, but out of purpose.
He loved her—but he never made her his emotional anchor. He didn’t confuse spiritual connection with physical permanence. He chose his duty, his dharma, over comfort. And in doing so, he honored the love instead of trapping it.

We’re taught to chase love that stays. That commits. That never lets go. But what if that isn’t always love? What if true love doesn’t cling, but liberates? Attachment says, “Don’t leave me. I can’t survive without you.” Love says, “Even if you leave, I’ll still wish you well.”
Krishna’s love was like that. Rooted, yet free. Present, yet unpossessive. The kind that holds your soul without holding your arm. And maybe that’s the kind of love we need to unlearn and relearn. The kind that asks, “Is this helping me grow, or is it just feeding my fear of being alone?”

We mistake intensity for destiny. “If I feel this deeply, it must be right.” But depth of feeling doesn’t always mean you’re meant to stay. Radha felt the deepest love. And yet, she let Krishna go—not because she didn’t love him, but because she did.
Enough to not make it about herself. Enough to not beg him to choose her over his truth. Sometimes the most sacred thing you can do in love is to step aside. Not as a victim, but as someone who recognizes that love doesn’t mean forever. It means fully—for as long as it’s meant to be.

Attachment is sneaky. It tells you, “If I hold on tighter, they won’t leave.” It hides behind words like care, effort, investment. But deep down, it’s about control. About fear. About security. Love, on the other hand, is trust. It’s saying, “I don’t need to grip you tightly to feel close to you.”
It’s the quiet confidence of knowing that love doesn’t need a cage. It needs space to breathe. Krishna knew that. He didn’t love with conditions. He didn’t offer forever in the human sense—he offered something deeper: the kind of love that shapes you, not shelters you.

We’re wired to think letting go is failure. That if a relationship ends, we did something wrong. But maybe, letting go is what keeps love from turning into resentment. Radha never blamed Krishna. She didn’t turn her love story into a wound. She lived with grace. With wisdom.
With the strength to love without demanding anything in return. Letting go doesn’t mean you didn’t love deeply. It means you loved right—so much that you refused to distort it for the sake of keeping it.

What if we stopped measuring love by how long it lasts and started measuring it by how much it expands us? What if we loved without gripping, stayed without trapping, and walked away without bitterness when the time came? Krishna didn’t abandon Radha. He lived his truth. And Radha didn’t shrink. She became eternal in love. So the next time you’re afraid to let go, remember this: even the gods knew that love and attachment are not the same thing. And the highest form of love is not the one that stays forever, it’s the one that lets you become who you’re meant to be. Even if that means walking alone.