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Real-life resilience - The Beatles
Different paths. Same heart.

In a long list of legendary bands, The Beatles are always near the top. Four guys from Liverpool who redefined music, culture, and creativity itself with anthems that we still enjoy decades later. Unfortunately, their meteoric rise to fame had taken its toll on their health - physically, emotionally and mentally.
One of my favourite insights into their music maturity and evolution comes from the track “Help!”. It was produced in just one four-hour session and became an instant chart-topper in 1965. However, it was also a candid expression from John Lennon, opening up about his internal struggles during the band's rise. Lennon later revealed that the song was a genuine plea for assistance, reflecting his feelings of vulnerability and the pressures of sudden fame. This openness and transparency marked a significant shift in their songwriting, embracing personal authenticity and emotional depth. The whole album was considered a kind of meditation, as if the four young men were seeking a collective breath from the chaos they had inadvertently found themselves in.
And while many of us might admire the creative genius of The Beatles as a group, their post-breakup journey is also quite rich in meaning. It wasn’t a clean, graceful breakup in the beginning. It was human (messy, raw, emotional) but their eventual reconciliation is a story of letting go, growing up, and coming back in a different form.
The popular narrative we often hear about success seems to indicate that those who made it were able to stick it out. That grit means staying finding a way forward, regardless of the obstacles.
Sometimes that way forward is overcoming a bump. Sometimes it’s a whole new path at a fork in the road. Because resilience isn’t always about holding on forever - it can also be about knowing when to let go.
The Beatles are an excellent example of this. Easily one of the most iconic bands in history, but even they couldn’t make it work forever.
By 1970, the tension between the group had become unmanageable. There were creative differences, personal rifts, and competing visions. It was a slow unraveling and eventually the band split. For years, some band members didn’t even speak. Paul and John took jabs at each other through solo lyrics.
Many people saw it as a tragedy. The end of something extraordinary. But eventually it became a story about transformation.
There’s a certain pressure in relationships (in teams, families, business partnerships) to keep it together no matter what. We confuse endurance with success. But The Beatles remind us that sometimes the most honest, healthy thing we can do is acknowledge when a season is over.
Despite that fracturing of the band, each found ways to evolve in their own ways:
John poured himself into peace activism and raw, deeply personal songwriting.
Paul launched Wings, facing early criticism, but ultimately built one of the most successful bands of the 70s.
George stepped into the spotlight with his own triple album that encompassed spiritual depth.
Ringo played on, collaborating, and reminding everyone not to take life too seriously.
They drifted apart and into their own worlds again, probably finding a new level of peace in their new identities. Then gradually, over time, they began to reconnect. They found new ways to honour the bond they had, even after the band was gone.
Paul and John reconnected in the mid-70s. And when George passed in 2001, Paul described him as his “baby brother” - proof that the love was never lost, only reshaped.
The art of letting go. Two tools that might help.
Write it down and rip it up. Sometimes, the most powerful conversations are the ones we never actually have. Abraham Lincoln used to draft “hot letters” when angry. He’d pour out his frustration with someone on a piece of paper, then file them away unsent. We know this because after his death, dozens of letters were found in his desk drawer. We can do the same. Write down everything we’re holding in. Get it all out. And then simply rip it up, burn it, or delete it. This exercise is not about denying any emotion - it's about releasing the weight of carrying it. The physical act of destruction also signals to the brain that we’re choosing release over rumination. It can be very cathartic.
3-column reframe. This tool can transform resentment into insight. We draw up three columns on a piece of paper. The three columns:
What/who hurt me
What it cost me
What I learned or gained
If we do it right, something always emerges in the “what I learned” column. A breach of trust might lead to stronger boundaries. A disappointment might reveal our core values. This isn’t erasing the pain, but it’s rewriting the meaning we carry forward. Now it’s up to us to act on that insight.
When we feel that we have come to the end of a path and there is no way to move forward, there is opportunity to trust that endings create space for new beginnings.
I often say that resilience is about bouncing forward into something new and improved. It might feel awkward at first, but it often blooms into something fresh and unique.
Different paths. Same heart.
Until next time friends, stay resilient.
Carre @ Resilient Minds
PS - have you measured your own resilience yet? Check out my Resilience Scorecard for a 3 minute self-assessment that delivers you a personal resilience score.
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