Inner Voices

Today, I want to talk about a figure that we too often take for granted: coaches, instructors, guides who surround us and who, in one way or another, transform our lives. They are like sculptors who, with patience and dedication, shape the clay that we are, smoothing the edges with the chisel and helping us find a shape that we often cannot see on our own. And yet, we never thank them enough.

I died, and it wasn’t from pain, or old age, or illness. I died, and it wasn’t from mourning, from ending, from longing, from joy. I died, and it wasn’t sadness, hate, work. I died, and it wasn’t in past lives or future lives. I died, and it wasn’t from anguish, loneliness, bitterness. I died! I died of being me.