There is no getting around the fact that I have let many important things lapse.  My practice has faltered.  My diet has gotten worse.  I write only occasionaly, nowhere near enough for one who aspires.  I have lost sight of the horizon of the Great Work. 

 

I feel as if I have been a dutch boy standing before a leaking damn, attempting so hard to plug every hole, to shore up any cracks, in order to keep the flood at bay.

 

But now I feel as if this has been the error.  Let things crack and crumble.  Let leaks become rivers.  Let the damn break and wash away what it will; what it must.  Let remain what deserves to remain.