I spent some time writing a blog post yesterday. I wrote it up, and edited again, and again, and then again, and still some more after that. I just couldn’t come around to liking what I had written down on the page.
Then in came my inner critique:
What a waste of time.
Why does it take me so long to say something so simple?
I’m so slow.
And then, it occurred to me,
Merciless, I’m being merciless with myself here now, so I think I’ll take a look at what is going on, and be okay with it just as it is.
Shakespeare reminds us as well to be merciful:
The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes
Merchant of Venice, Act IV, Scene 1
The Bard does have a way with words.