
Personal Reflection
We live in a world obsessed with answers — with clarity, closure, and clean resolutions. We’re told that if we’re still questioning, still wrestling with ourselves, still doubting — something must be wrong.
But Dostoevsky says otherwise.
He reminds us that being human isn’t about finishing the puzzle. It’s about sitting with the pieces, knowing some may never fit, and still choosing to study the shape of the whole.
The work of understanding yourself — your patterns, your wounds, your contradictions-is messy. It doesn’t earn applause. It rarely offers comfort. But it keeps you real. It keeps you soft. It keeps you from becoming machinery inside someone else’s machine.
There is no map for the soul. No straight line from broken to whole. But to be willing to stay in the mystery — to remain curious, even when the answers evade you-that’s the real work of becoming.
And that’s not a waste of time. That’s how you remember you’re alive.
Reflective Prompt
What part of your own mystery have you been avoiding — and what might happen if you studied it with compassion instead of judgment?
We’re all just doing our own coming of age story (somebody else on here said that I don’t remember who but it rocks)
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Thanks, Ted
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