At some point, you just get tired of being your own worst enemy and you lay down your arms.
I wonder why so much of my territory is preoccupied with guilt or shame. Envy. Fear. Internal insurgents lob highly sophisticated rockets of self-criticism, as though let-me-think-of-all-my-shortcomings-before-you-do creates a kind of missile defense against the outside world. It shields me every night while I lay down with the enemy.
It's time to surrender.
Not the white-flag, but the olive branch. A treaty of delirious possibility. The conditions of the agreement are non-technical and involve things like vegetables, sleep, blank paper, yellow running shoes, tenderness. In order to embrace an imperfect union I will stop building settlements in unfriendly outposts. I will start again, with friendship, acceptance, and love.
Let no one think that the birth of man is to be felt without terror. The transformations that await us cost everything in the way of courage and sacrifice. Let no one be deluded that knowledge of the path can substitute for putting one foot in front of the other. Centering is a severe and thrilling discipline, often acutely unpleasant. In my own efforts, I become weak, discouraged, exhausted, angry, frustrated, unhappy, and confused. But someone within me is resolute, and I try again. Within us lives a merciful being who helps us to our feet however many times we fail.
- M.C. Richards