It’s a scenario each of us knows all too well: the mystery of the misplaced phone (or reading glasses or car key). You set it down… somewhere, but where that is has become a mystery that demands your utmost attention.

You shift from your morning coffee to set out on a hunt for the errant phone. You retrace your steps. You look under furniture in case it fell to the floor. You look on top of the dresser in case you set it there. You scan each room looking for its shape and color. You put 100 percent of your attention into finding that phone and it becomes nearly a frenzied search.

All in vain.

The phone remains elusively out of sight. But not out of mind. And maybe that’s the problem.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to the hunt.

After 10 long minutes of peering under pillows, digging through drawers and combing the countertops, you throw up your hands — exhausted and thoroughly annoyed. You glance over at your morning coffee and think, “I give up!”

You decide to relax over your cup of morning Joe, knowing that the phone will turn up — eventually, and you are okay with that.

And then the magic happens.

You finish your coffee and head to the kitchen sink to rinse the cup. You glance over at the microwave and there it is, right where you set it down when you were brewing the coffee.

The universe — or perhaps you — led you to the solution at the precise moment you stopped looking. This isn’t a commentary on lost phones or the quirks of human memory. It’s a lesson about letting go.

Sometimes life throws us a curveball. Sometimes things don’t go as planned. Sometimes we deeply and dearly wish we could have a do-over.

And in those situations, the human default is often to cling harder. To grasp at thin air. To desperately attempt to control something that is quite simply beyond our control.

We cling to relationships. We grasp at balancing life choices. And we get stuck.

While we pour 100 percent of our attention into forcing a breakthrough, we often booby-trap ourselves. Our extreme focus narrows our peripheral vision and we lose sight of the bigger picture.

Often, the answers become evident when we stop trying so hard. When we sit back and simply allow things to unfold. The outcomes may not materialize in the exact way we desire or would like to anticipate, but when our focus shifts, often the answer we’ve been seeking shifts as well.

Sometimes we are so focused on the path we’d planned that we are blind to the myriad other paths available. Letting go isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s a sign of trust. In yourself. In the world. In the universe. In your higher power.

Demonstrating this trust doesn’t mean giving up or pretending the problem doesn’t exist. Trust means having the quiet fortitude to step back, calm your mind and simply breathe. It is the realization that your intense focus may be blocking the very path you are trying to find. It is trusting that your mind, your resilience and the universe can find the solution only when you stop crowding the room. It is interrupting the cycle with something as simple as a morning cup of coffee.

The next time you find yourself in an all-consuming search for an answer that refuses to appear, try throwing your hands up. Pour a cup of coffee. Step out of the way.

You might be surprised by what sits waiting for you in plain sight, the moment you finally stop looking.

— Jill Pertler’s column Slices of Life appears occasionally in the Times. She can be reached at slicescolumn@gmail.com.