I plan, and act. I succeed, or fail. I look back in pride, or remorse.
All a fiction. Let me see the truth. My success was as grand as the knot in a child’s shoelaces, a trivial matter achieved with difficulty. My failure no more consequential than a spilled tumbler of water.
And yet, in the morning, here am I, planning my day as if it were a great battle.
Lord, visit me in this moment. Help me to inhabit it.
(Letter #2,324)
