I’d like to paint my life in brush strokes large and strong. In colours loud and fierce. So that wherever I go, all of me goes. A life without fear.
I‘ve been thinking about what you have to give up to get wherever you are. Yes, I’ve been thinking about success. Or what passes for success.
In any field, I imagine — certainly the ones I’ve been in — the aspiring one is told that there is no success without sacrifice. Or pain. Or sweat. I’ve chosen to handle that the only way I knew/know how: by working my ass off. By sweating. Stretching. Rewriting. Practising. Ignoring the pain, the boredom, the resistance, the yearning, the agony and self-doubt. I’ve learned to be what passes for successful by not putting my “self” first, but by striving to exceed (not reach!) the goals that have been put before me.
But what happens if and when a self emerges?
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