Can Rescue Efforts Become Destruction?

Those who are the most ruthless with themselves know this truth; those who are the hardest on their own boundaries and progress, who push themselves relentlessly to get somewhere, to achieve something, to become something. Those who sprint toward enlightenment with ferocious speed and ambition—they know it all too well.

I sense that my being is also caught in this experience—a relentless effort to arrive somewhere, to reach something, to become someone. Perhaps, at its root, this is yet another attempt to overcome feelings of inadequacy.

Lately, I’m waking up to the harm this speed and relentless drive causes, not just to myself but to those around me. I’m becoming aware of how, in pushing their boundaries, I have unknowingly inflicted harm upon others. Ironically, while enduring the harshness mirrored back to me by others, I’ve realized that I am my own harshest critic. These people are merely honoring the agreements we’ve unconsciously made—they’re not against me. In fact, life isn’t against me; it exists for me. This realization has become clearer lately.

My existence, which has always chosen the hardest paths, constantly tested limits, and sought challenges, is now saying, "Enough." A voice within me asks, “Who do you think you are? Do you really believe you can do everything?” The universe seems to echo this sentiment.

It whispers, “Can’t you see the damage you’re doing, not only to yourself but to others as well? Look at how you push people, how you add to their suffering.” It urges me to open my eyes, to stop being blind. “All the answers you’re seeking aren’t out there—they’re right in front of you,” it says.

Moreover, it reminds me that I don’t have to personally experience every single challenge. “Stop running like a headless chicken, chasing experiences,” it says. “Observe your surroundings; look at those walking similar paths. The answers you seek are there too.”

Right now, I find myself oscillating between being a witness and a participant. Sometimes, just observing feels like the easier path, a comfort zone. Yet, there are moments when I willingly dive into difficult games, knowing they will challenge me, test my limits and capacity. The beautiful part? I now know how to find the exits. I can jump into turbulent waters, step back to catch my breath, observe from a distance, and then dive back in.

Part of me asks, “Is it really necessary to row so hard against the current? Just be. Stop. Observe. That’s enough. Stay here a little longer and watch.” Another part urges, “You can’t grow like this. Jump in and practice.” Once again, duality arises.

So here I am, navigating through trial and error, continuing this journey.

What brings me the most relief these days is realizing that planning, strategizing, and trying to control everything aren’t the solutions. By staying in the moment and responding to what comes, I find progress. When I’m present and aware, I take the right action for that moment, and the issue resolves itself, leaving my mind at ease.

I’ve also started openly communicating what I believe is the right thing to say, without waiting for the other person to make the first move. This often brings clarity to our relationship instantly, even if it feels intimidating. I’ve come to understand that the real fear lies not in addressing these issues but in prolonging them, in leaving them unresolved.

Lately, I’ve been learning about respect—respecting others’ boundaries, capacities, and journeys. I sense that this path to respect is paved with unconditional love. Step by step, I’m moving closer to it. This is the journey. The journey is not to find anything but to rediscover love.

Or maybe, it’s not even about finding it, but remembering it—awakening to it.

With love…

4o