Anyone who pushes themselves into scarcely walked paths where the promise of hardwon treasures ring continually in their ears as they travel it, whispering, wealth, fame, renown, is familiar, or, if they’re just beginning the path, will no doubt know it in time, with the moments of spectacular, ruinous, and seemingly fatal failures. The kind where, when in a new city, in search of a new job or way of life, you meet the hard wall without the necessary tools to bring it down, and must tuck tail and return home—often to the exact people who prophesied such a fate, such as Mother who had no advice except for telling you all that could go wrong, or friends who laughed at you, who did not believe in you, for they could not believe in themselves…and you’ve just proven them right! It is precisely in these moments, where you rest on what appears to be the bedrock, and might wish to go just under it so that no one might see you resting at the lowest of the low points, when you might be persuaded to give it all up—the path, and with it, the promises at the end. And yet, it is on the path where the treasure lies, and it is in the spirit of the man who walks it.
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