Some of the most regret-laden folks I’ve ever met are those who never take chances and never take risks.

All in the name of avoiding regret.

At any moment, the immutable sentence of “too late” might fall upon my efforts.

Which is why I’m getting to work NOW.  TODAY.

I believe the phrase “do what you can,” is often underestimated, because the things we can do are seemingly unglamorous, and not to our liking.

Whenever someone implies that “doing what you can” isn’t worth their time, I think of Nelson Mandela, breaking rocks in prison, doing what he could. 

And I think about where it got him.

Pain is an underutilized treasure in the quest to evolve.

Have you ever talked with someone who justifies their failure with, “I might have failed, but I learned so much.” 

What exactly is it, though, that they claim to have learned?

In my opinion, if failure can’t be translated into future success (or at least comprehensively articulated into why an attempt didn’t work, so strategy can be adjusted for subsequent efforts) then the phrase “I learned so much” is devoid of worth.  It becomes the equivalent of a hollow platitude:  a positive-sounding statement that possesses negative value, because it functions as an excuse to avoid investigating the failure and sharpen thought processes, which only serves to strengthen the problem.

In the past, I’ve tried to bury my head in the sand, denying the need to acknowledge the burdens of life—eating right, paying attention to detail, using critical thinking, focusing on my objectives (being disciplined, in other words)—but it’s always come back to bite me in the ass.

But when I proactively venture forth and attempt to overcome hardship—when I willingly face it head-on—I experience a deep, primal sense of gratification.

And then I forget how difficult it was.  That’s when life becomes a game.

The failures I’ve endured, the people who’ve inspired me…they all serve as ever-constant angels.  Angels that urge me to maintain a standard when no one is looking. 

My failures push me to act in a manner where—if I was facing the same problem—I’d be worthy of success, and my inspirations push me to act in a way where if I ever ran into them, they’d look me squarely in the eye and say, “Not bad.”

We’re all blazes of wondrous potential.  If we fan our beings with discipline and audacity, we will shine all the brighter for it, and enliven reality for those around us.

Or we can gutter and die, muffled by the deadly obscurity of procrastination.

When it comes to writing, in order to evoke the resonance of truth, it helps to understand that light and dark (or good and bad) are simply reference points.  They’re not evil and they’re not holy.  They’re impartial tools you can use to highlight an indescribable transcendence through whatever arrangement of [colors/words/notes] you’ve put together.

I used to believe in delaying gratification until I’d solved a certain amount of “problems,” and that upon doing so, I’d reach financial freedom/enlightenment/flow state/whatever. 

Then I saw people who, despite their lack of “problems,” were still miserable.  I realized there’s no reason to delay gratification, and that having a “problem” to solve is actually a gift, and that the ultimate luxury isn’t lazing around or wallowing in permanent bliss, but using discipline and strategy to trade in my current problems for a more interesting set. 

That way, life becomes a game and not a prison.