Or the forty days I spent in the desert, waiting for my father to speak to me.
Not going to Maggie that night, but sending Biff in my place.
Learning to be a stonecutter.
Or coming back when I faded away at the monastery, understanding that the bliss I had touched was not to be mine, not until all the souls of earth had achieved it first.
Teaching an elephant yoga.
Sending Judas to set it all in motion, to tell the Romans.
I do not name these things as a show of strength or achievement. I name them to show one thing -- that all things are difficult, but at the same time, all things are easy. Many things, when I encountered them, were difficult. Monumental, insurmountable.
And yet I did surmount them.
One cannot worry, one cannot fear. One must only be, and do. And so, all things are difficult, and all things are easy, because they are both and they are neither.
Or, you know. Maybe it was puberty after all.