My dear boy:
I hear you complaining. You’re tired… The work is hard… You lost some money... Nothing is going your way…
Good.
This might be hard to hear: I’m glad it hurts.
You pray for an easy life. You want the millions without the sleepless nights. You want the title without the battle.
But I know the truth: An easy life is a curse.
I’ve seen what happens to men who get everything handed to them. They become soft. They become fragile weaklings. When the first real storm hits (and it always does), they break.
A pilot doesn’t learn to fly in clear skies. He learns in the storm. A muscle doesn’t grow when you lift a feather. It grows when you lift iron that feels too heavy.
The struggle you’re feeling right now isn’t a sign that you’re failing. It’s a sign that you’re growing.
Don’t wish for the pain to stop. Don’t wish for a lighter load.
Wish for a stronger back.
Embrace the cold. Embrace the difficulty. That is where the man is made.
I know you’re resilient enough to handle it, my boy.
Yours sincerely,
