The strange danger of winning

Freedom has a smug phase, and nobody puts it in the brochure. Someone steps out at the same time every afternoon, and a small flat thought slides in. How do they not see it? You'd never say it to their face. But it feels good, a little too good. That warm feeling deserves a hard look.

Contempt only works if someone's below you. That means your footing depends on other people staying stuck, which is a strange thing to build a life on. It also gets the story backwards. You knew every argument by heart and reached for a cigarette anyway. The cigarette talks smart people into bad math every day. What separates you from them isn't brains. It's help.

You're standing on the shore, still dripping. People who are still dripping don't lecture the ones in the water. So keep your memory honest, on purpose, before time polishes it. The morning you swore you were done, and the evening you weren't. The pocket check at the door. Honest memory keeps you from deciding you've graduated. And it makes it hard to look down on anyone.

Next time you see someone step out, trade the verdict for a prayer. Lord, do for them what You did for me. Answer what you're asked and stop there. Be the least preachy free person anyone knows. Your rescue was a gift, and gifts make lousy pedestals. I was in that water too, and Someone pulled me out.