You run because the fulfillment of now—let alone your potential, scares you. Your challenge is to stop and look at the earth upon which you stand and see that there’s no better or more suitable territory for you to conquer or conquer from.
And as you look around, you will see a shadow. Don’t be afraid or feign not to notice. This, your silhouette; is your power in the physical —spirited, not by its shape or size — but by the point of your toes, the sureness of your stance, the angle of your torso and the set of your chin. This, the sum of your carriage, reveals your constitution and creates your life.
Why is it so hard then to move “as if” you were the master? One debilitating reason is that you think you’re taking away some integral part of your life if you abandon your story. That if you attempt to shift, you’ll dishonor the years in which you’ve, as the story goes, sat in ashes —ashes that you hold in both sacredness and derision. That incestuous fear, that your life will be lost if you fail to make your present, a propitiation for your past, costs you the life you mean to resurrect.
Surely…a life for a life. Mind your rate of exchange.
I say, if we’re talking matters of life—and thereby death, is it less than a capital crime to not choose to exchange indolence and pattern for passion and frontier? …to not empower the minutest impulse of exertion in the shaping of your thoughts and subsequent congruence of your contour?
This is the moment. This is your moment…to declare your past both foundational and deciduous. …to walk freely where you’ve arrived and call it holy. …to respect yourself sufficiently that without apology —starting now you live with impunity.