Let Go or Don't Grasp in the First Place?

Many of my yoga themes have dealt with the idea of letting go and many will continue along those lines because we are born to a society of attachments. But, I found this most amazing quote which redirects us and points out why we shouldn't have to let go in the first place...

"We need to live being aware of the ever-changing nature of reality and appreciate the present moment. It’s not about letting go, it’s really about not grasping in the first place." Matt Valentine

My daughter just graduated from high school. People ask me how I feel; they ask me if I am sad.  I know a lot of friends who have posted on FB that they are sad or that they have cried, but I do not feel that way at all... I am excited! I am anticipatory of what comes next...what comes next??!  I am looking forward to seeing her path extend before her.  Alluding to Valentine's quote, I do not have to let go of her high school experience, because I had never latched onto it in the first place.  Things change.  That is the only thing you can be certain of; that everything as you know it in this moment will change in the next.  One moment my greyhound is sleeping, the next he is a bundle of puppy energy nibbling at me to play. 

"From the Introduction to Crooked Cucumber, a biography of Zen Buddhist teacher Shunryu Suzuki by David Chadwick:

One night in February of 1968, I sat among fifty black-robed fellow students, mostly young Americans, at Zen Mountain Center, Tassajara Springs, ten miles inland from Big Sur, California, deep in the mountain wilderness. The kerosene lamplight illuminated our breath in the winter air of the unheated room.

Before us the founder of the first Zen Buddhist monastery in the Western Hemisphere, Shunryu Suzuki-roshi, had concluded a lecture from his seat on the altar platform. "Thank you very much," he said softly, with a genuine feeling of gratitude. He took a sip of water, cleared his throat, and looked around at his students. "Is there some question?" he asked, just loud enough to be heard above the sound of the creek gushing by in the darkness outside.

I bowed, hands together, and caught his eye.

"Hai?" he said, meaning yes.

"Suzuki-roshi, I've been listening to your lectures for years," I said, "and I really love them, and they're very inspiring, and I know that what you're talking about is actually very clear and simple. But I must admit I just don't understand. I love it, but I feel like I could listen to you for a thousand years and still not get it. Could you just please put it in a nutshell? Can you reduce Buddhism to one phrase?"

Everyone laughed. He laughed. What a ludicrous question. I don't think any of us expected him to answer it. He was not a man you could pin down, and he didn't like to give his students something definite to cling to. He had often said not to have "some idea" of what Buddhism was.

But Suzuki did answer. He looked at me and said, "Everything changes." Then he asked for another question."