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I realize that I have systematically novicated parts of my mind, so that I only think about things that don’t scare me or make me feel a very basic kind of pleasure. The world is too much with us, too much with me. But I want to let it in anyway — I have to fight against myself to let it in, let it affect me. It’s better to be scared than be secure: security is always false security. I will die, everyone will die — we’re all dying; wouldn’t it be better to take risks, to use one’s life as a challenge, as a counter-example to death and meaningless, rather than as proof of it? Why do I defer towards meekness? Pleasantness? Since we did I stop challenging the people around me? When did I decide that it wasn’t worth it? Was the process gradual or did it happen over a short period of time? Is it still happening?
