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No matter how fast we run—the little Pharisee on our shoulder is still standing there, arms crossed, shaking his head, and telling us we could have done more. We could have done better.
This love will not cease. It cannot be stopped. It cannot be tamed. It is love unsought. Before you lift a pinky in repentance, it has already come to you.
Our regrets and anxiety, self-abuse and addictions, violence and endless lists are signs that we don’t have an answer to the question: "Why am I here right now, alive, existing?"