Stop Guarding a Door Already Open

The afternoon sun beats down on the long middle of the day, and you are exhausted from holding the door shut. You tell yourself that if you just stop dreaming, if you just stop hoping for anything different, you might finally be safe from the crash.

But the terror is not in the dream. The terror is in the belief that your vigilance is the only thing keeping the darkness out.

There was a man who lay beside a pool for thirty-eight years, convinced that his only chance was to fight his way into the water before someone else did. He thought his survival depended on his own speed, his own guarding of the opportunity.

But the light walked straight to him—not to the fastest, not to the most vigilant—and asked if he actually wanted to get well. The answer did not matter as much as the command: get up.

You are not the gatekeeper. You never were.

The light has already entered the middle of your routine, and it does not need your permission to stay. Stop guarding a door that is already open.