“The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in times of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality.” ― Dante Alighieri, Inferno
I often find myself on the stretching rack trying to figure out which limb I can live without. I say limb because those things which I try very hard to part with have, over time, become a part of me. Sadly, in the back of our thoughts and between the delays of the inevitable, we know that some things have to be shed.
I am too young to say that I have a lot of experience with this and, in fact, there is only one true example in my own life where this happened. Every time I think about the unimaginably unbearable process, C.S. Lewis’ confession that “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear” comes to mind.
Without a doubt, these situations either fill us with regret, for the loss of something which made us better, or jubilation, for ridding ourselves of something we knew shouldn’t have been with us in the first place. When I look back at the one experience I mentioned, the part that really filled me with dread was that at the time, I didn’t experience any of these two feelings; I was stuck in between. Later it was regret, but at the time there was nothing. Looking back, I have to say that it was a touch of madness that pushed me over the edge (because obviously normalcy got me nowhere).
Now, thoughts of mediocrity are admonishments of what could be. So let madness light the way.