Trial and Error or Simply, The Story of Life.

Sometimes there are things that remind us of who were and where we have been. They can remind us of happy times or give us glimpses of a part of us that we need to shake hands with once more. They can also be reminders of the part of us that was best left in the past, a little section we worked hard to rid ourselves of. In our humanity, we let that negativity come back to us, just for a moment and without notice until it hits us squarely on the nose. This parasitic part that would feed off of us tells us we are not changed, that we are full of faults and it also whispers to us all the doubts we have about ourselves and it would keep us bound by its great arms in that darkest of places, the pit of self-pity for who we once were.

The word ‘But’, I think is most appropriate here. ‘But’ tells us something quite opposite from what has just happened is about to take place. It offers us hope. This word can be a little window of light in a dark mind filled with unhappiness and lost focus.

So….

But, we are not meant to dwell on all the things that are in us that we do not like. We are not meant to whip our backs like old monks or priests. We are to accept our faults and work to change them. Refocusing our thoughts to those things that would inspire us to be better than we believe we can be.

We must go forward.

I think often of William Ernest Henley’s ‘Invictus’. It inspires me as it inspired Nelson Mandela. It speaks with great conviction of what I have just spoken, only much, much more eloquently.

So I have copied it here. I have posted it before, in fact I believe it was the first post I ever posted on here.

I hope it inspires you as it does me.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

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