CouragePosted: December 14, 2008
It’s a funny thing. You think you have it – after working and working to gather it up into your hands, like making a ball out of dry uncooperative sand – and then just like that same sand, it deserts you. It does so in one of two ways – either epicly, in one big whoosh, or slowly throughout time, and you suddenly discover it’s all blown away in the wind.
So many times I work myself into a frenzy being the little train that could: “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!” And then I can’t.
What a coward.
On the other metaphorical hand, when you do manage to keep the sand in your hands, oh the feeling it leaves! You feel like a king. Or in my case, queen, but I digress. It makes you wonder why, in retrospect, why on earth it was so hard to keep the damn sand in the first place.
And the cycle repeats.
Such is life.