There once were two dogs who wanted to please their master and earn the master's love through obedience. They raced to see who would be first to greet their master and then tried to outjump each other to show who loved the master more. Each one would bring the master a slipper and the newspaper, and they even learned how to carry the laundry basket.
When the master wasn't around, they pushed and bit each other and fought epic battles for the top position within the pack. They counted out the number of kibble pieces and kept track of the length of their walks with the master believing that this would show which dog was more loved. And they compared notes.
"On Tuesday, you got to climb onto the bed. I don't get to do that."
"But I was sick, so that doesn't count. Besides, you got a new collar in my favorite color."
This went on for years. The dogs struggled and battled and neither ever seemed content in his position within the pack. They wasted so much time that they never played with their toys or chased a squirrel or pranced through the woods or took a long nap in the sunshine. They never knew the joys of being a dog or the comraderie of being part of a pack.
I am one of those dogs; much of my life has been defined by a very similar race. I cannot help but wonder what would happen if I dropped out of the race? Is there still a competition? Am I still in the race if someone thinks they are competing against me?
What I do know is that I'm worn out. You can only run for so far or so long. I'm out of breath and thirsty and oh so ready for a nap. So why can't I just slip out of the race? My fear is that it makes me a failure and will give the competitor a false sense of victory. It's a sad and shameful testament to my humanity: I don't want to go on anymore, but I also don't want to lose.
When the master wasn't around, they pushed and bit each other and fought epic battles for the top position within the pack. They counted out the number of kibble pieces and kept track of the length of their walks with the master believing that this would show which dog was more loved. And they compared notes.
"On Tuesday, you got to climb onto the bed. I don't get to do that."
"But I was sick, so that doesn't count. Besides, you got a new collar in my favorite color."
This went on for years. The dogs struggled and battled and neither ever seemed content in his position within the pack. They wasted so much time that they never played with their toys or chased a squirrel or pranced through the woods or took a long nap in the sunshine. They never knew the joys of being a dog or the comraderie of being part of a pack.
I am one of those dogs; much of my life has been defined by a very similar race. I cannot help but wonder what would happen if I dropped out of the race? Is there still a competition? Am I still in the race if someone thinks they are competing against me?
What I do know is that I'm worn out. You can only run for so far or so long. I'm out of breath and thirsty and oh so ready for a nap. So why can't I just slip out of the race? My fear is that it makes me a failure and will give the competitor a false sense of victory. It's a sad and shameful testament to my humanity: I don't want to go on anymore, but I also don't want to lose.
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