Trying to be better

If I stop trying so damn hard to do the right thing, I tend to do the right thing more often. If I stop trying so damn hard to be a better person, I tend to be a better person. I do not try to stay alive, yet my heart keeps beating (the greatest gift I can give my body is to trust it will continue without my fretting). I do not try to love my mother, yet I do. I do not try not to commit murder, yet I haven’t. Trying seems a rather superfluous activity.

But what of trying to succeed in career or occupation? Surely to try hard here pays off? Look at all the ambitious people and all they have gained! They speak of hard work and blood and sweat!

I have tried hard at these things, and I think them great! Yet, when I pause and recall those long nights when it was fun and I was delirious in new discovery, when the team laughed and sunrise brought a finished project and reward, I do not remember the trying, but the loving, and the passion outstripping ambition, and the wings spreading at their full width, no less, but with no strain to reach. We were not trying to bleed or sweat, but those things appeared out of our enjoyment. At the best of times, we were riding that awesome unknown wave that carries us, and we were content in our ignorance.

If I stop trying to become something, I will be with all the beautiful stuff that is me now, stuff I have convinced myself I am not. This is the greatest denial.

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