Where there's a will, there's a way out

I often find things hard to start. A new post, a new project, even planning for a new trip. Despite the enthusiasm, despite the promise.

But it’s even harder to stop, to say that’s enough, to put an end to the long journey.

History is a graveyard of momentum, littered with nations and wills that mistook endurance for wisdom.

The Hundred Years’ War stretched across generations not for the sake of soil, but for the sake of an inertia that neither side knew how to bury; it was a monument to the intangible weight of the “already begun.”

Getting out of a bad deal is usually harder than getting into one. When the table is set for an unfair game, the greatest temptation is to remain seated, as if the next hand might finally justify the previous losses.

We mistake the exit for a void, yet the exit is its own architecture. The exit plan is too often under-planned, under-thought, and underdeveloped, treated as an afterthought to the grand opening. We crave the rush of the forward vector, but what if the most radical act is the halt?

To stop is to collide with the self. We must find a secondary momentum, a counter-force maybe, to undo the existing drift.

In the physics of the soul, the hardest turn is always the one that leads back to the door.