I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know about you, but I have uttered this refrain many times, often on the brink of crisis. The last time was when I had come to a point in my working career where the gulf between my aspirations and my day-to-day reality appeared a bridge too far.
I used to call my humble temporary abode, a lung-busting climb above Cusco, Peru, The Cave. Notwithstanding that the real caves were a few hundred yards away, at a sacred site known as the Temple of the Moon, The Cave was austere enough for my purposes: to hold my feet to the fire and see what happened to depression when I refused to run.