your hand opens and closes, opens and closes... if it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds' wings
let me tell you something you already know... the world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. its a very mean and nasty place and i don't care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. you, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. but it ain't about how hard you hit. it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. how much you can take and keep moving forward. that's how winning is done!
greatness is a transitory experience. it is never consistent. it depends in part upon the myth-making imagination of humankind. the person who experiences greatness must have a feeling for the myth he is in. he must reflect what is projected upon him. and he must have a strong sense of the sardonic. this is what uncouples him from belief in his own pretensions. the sardonic is all that permits him to move within himself. without this quality, even the occasional greatness will destroy a man