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Your mistakes are your discoverer’s map. The means upon which you travel all seas ahead. You are no yeoman peeling potatoes in the galley. You are the captain and master of your vessel. All captains must know the feeling of beaching their vessel, losing their north star, struggling against the sea to hold the rudder on course to truly know the art of navigation. You must be willing to stand with a spent sail, no wind and no discernible idea where you are to develop the talents for finding your way home. This is how you come to feel deeply your metal.

To flay your heart, a tuna on the deck for the mere miss of a red light, a promotion not received, a misspoke word, or the bus not caught is to spend your life little more than the tie man grabbing the lines of other’s ships pulling into your port. We treat our sacred selves as slaves captured on lone islands doomed to a life of servitude, our light little more than a flicker. See more broadly not merely the horizon you travel toward, but the very helm upon which you stand. Your spirit is not in the dinghy. Regardless what your mind deceives you with as you look in the mirror, be assured. Your divine light is on a great masted ship and your sails are full.