It is so easy to quit. I know because I have done it countless number of times.
Sometimes, those moments feel like a dilapidated antique shop, filled with unwanted collectable could-have-beens and never-was. The shop brimms with unopened ideas and discarded architectural designs. It is empty warehouse, full of countless unfulfilled memories.
I think you have an antique shop too.
Yours is probably dimly lit, like mine, and keeps odd and unpredictable business hours. It too, often neglects its customers and I’m beginning to think the staff are stealing from me.
Quitting is easy.
With one stroke, our dreams suffocate, some retreat, and the rest die a needless and torturous death.
Quitting seems easy, but it’s not.
The aftershocks of the relentless melancholy thoughts that weigh heavily upon our soul are never ending. They turn into a pestering cacophony of regret. Every decision to quit or give up always comes with the responsibility which demands our decision to be properly squared away. It is often paid with time, not to mention heaps of personal and bitter disappointment.
The universe is an angry taskmaster and she always gets paid.
It is therefore much easier, as counterintuitive it may seem, to just keep going.
It’s sad that we are incapable of ‘feeling forward’. We able to think forward, but we are only capable of ‘feeling back’. We feel the past. We do not feel the future.
How wonderful it would be if we had the ability to experience our ideas in their full glory. How great it would be to feel the future as it will one day appear to be. Wouldn’t it be great if we could live, touch and feel the unborn future?
Quitting is hard.
Don’t stop. Don’t submit. Don’t feel.
Think. Re-commit. Re-group.
Work. Work some more. Work again.
Work.
Get out of your own way and let tomorrow come.
