November 22
Better one's own duty, imperfectly fulfilled, than another's, well done.
Bhagavad Gita (freely rendered)
Listening mode
Better one's own duty, imperfectly fulfilled, than another's, well done.
For other people's difficulties you often have astonishingly good answers. A friend tells you about a quarrel, and you see at once where she could give way and where she had better not. You say so calmly and precisely. She nods.
In your own affairs you manage it less often. The situation is hardly more tangled, but you are in the middle of it. Every possible answer has consequences you would have to bear yourself, and a history you can't simply put down. Your clarity with your friend also had to do with the fact that none of it held you fast.
There is something seductive in this. Where you aren't involved, you seem calm, knowledgeable, almost wise. You could settle in there: helping others along and putting off your own questions until later, without anyone noticing, least of all you.
The clumsy sentences you finally find in your own case, by contrast, belong to a conversation no one can have in your place. They falter and don't quite hit the mark. No one would call them as wise as your advice.
In return, the answer you get to them is meant for you.
