Beneath every straining ego is the crying child.
The ego cannot stop them crying, that’s not its role; but it can protect the poor little thing.
It can look down the path ahead, foresee dangers and put in place the necessary plans.
It has done faithfully this for years. Indeed, it’s been doing it for so long, the moves are automatic now, not even a decision.
Sometimes the child asks ‘Can I stop crying now?’
But that sort of question makes the ego uncomfortable, so it closes down the discussion.
‘Trouble ahead,’ it says, ‘But don’t worry, I’ll sort it. If you get back down into the cellar, you’ll be safe. No one will see your tears.’
Privately, the ego dreads the idea of the child ceasing to cry. For what would it then do and what would it protect?
Everyone needs a reason to be.
That day must never come, it says to itself, wearily closing the cellar door.
