Good, then.
君子安于义，小人安于利
The noble person finds peace in virtue, the petty person finds peace in gain i.e comfort.
If I found peace in an aloneness shaped by betrayal and bitterness, it would be my own pettiness and smallness.
My pain, not comfort, is my inner integrity. It is better than looking away. When solitude turns into painful self exile, it is not mere retreat it is depth yearning to resolve an existential question only I can answer for myself, to both forgive people and let go of the desire for justice. There will never be any. Not for me and not from you.
The solitude I have loved was driven by virtue, not by comfort. MY virtue. I loved it like nothing else. It was mine, and it was pure. And that love was taken from me by MY own foolishness and I miss it. I want it. It was never an escape, never a self imposed exile, never a means of self protection. It was me completing myself. And with every broken piece I allowed to be taken, it shifted within me from zhudòng to bèidòng. And because of that I suffer. I created my own suffering.
I built my noble solitude. I broke what I built for a false faith. I can fix it again for myself and I will.
The noble person finds peace in virtue, the petty person finds peace in gain i.e comfort.
If I found peace in an aloneness shaped by betrayal and bitterness, it would be my own pettiness and smallness.
My pain, not comfort, is my inner integrity. It is better than looking away. When solitude turns into painful self exile, it is not mere retreat it is depth yearning to resolve an existential question only I can answer for myself, to both forgive people and let go of the desire for justice. There will never be any. Not for me and not from you.
The solitude I have loved was driven by virtue, not by comfort. MY virtue. I loved it like nothing else. It was mine, and it was pure. And that love was taken from me by MY own foolishness and I miss it. I want it. It was never an escape, never a self imposed exile, never a means of self protection. It was me completing myself. And with every broken piece I allowed to be taken, it shifted within me from zhudòng to bèidòng. And because of that I suffer. I created my own suffering.
I built my noble solitude. I broke what I built for a false faith. I can fix it again for myself and I will.
