We cannot leave the wharf until we have cast off the lines.
Whatever we are attached to, we are bound by.
Mostly, we are bound by our emotions, wrapped up like perambulating mummies.
It’s all old material, loose threads, conditioned behaviours, nostalgia, memories, how it ought to be, how it could be, how it isn’t. Oh, man. It’s so bedraggled, sad and ridiculous. It’s a phase. (Could be a long one.)
Eventually the work starts—the work of ego stripping. We. Just. Peel. Off.
Men's Work 