There’s an old saying: “We are our own worst critics.” But have you ever stopped to ask why? What makes us cling so tightly to the past, replaying mistakes as if doing so could rewrite them? Is it ever about others? Or is it always about our self-talk. If we don’t let go and allow the past to be the past, we will never forgive ourselves.
Life, at its essence, is flow—a continuous unfolding. Yet, instead of moving with it, we often anchor ourselves to extremes: to regrets that tether us to what’s gone, or to fears that cast shadows over what’s yet to come. These extremes feel like certainty, but they are illusions. The truth—our truth—lives in the space in between.
The Gravity of Extremes
Philosophers across centuries have cautioned against the pull of extremes. Not because they’re inherently wrong, but because they narrow our perspective. They make us see only black or white, when life is rich with color.
Aristotle spoke of the “golden mean,” the virtue found between deficiency and excess. But what if balance isn’t a fixed point? What if it’s a space—a field of possibility where we’re free to move, explore, and grow? This space is where life happens. It’s not static or rigid; it’s alive and dynamic, like the light between shadow and brilliance.
Rumi captured this beautifully: “Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Let life live through you.” When we let go of the need to define ourselves by extremes—success or failure, good or bad—we step into a world of infinite nuance and depth.
The Lies We Tell Ourselves
What holds us back from this freedom? Often, it’s the lies we tell ourselves. Lies about who we are, what we’re capable of, or what we deserve. These lies, born of pain and fear, become walls that separate us from the present.
Marcus Aurelius, the Stoic philosopher, wrote: “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” But what happens when the mind turns against itself? When it tells us we’re not enough, that our mistakes define us?
To break free, we must first recognize these lies for what they are: not truths, but echoes of past hurt. And then we must step beyond them, into the space where truth resides—a truth that is neither perfection nor failure, but the wholeness of who we are.
Living in the Space Between
Time itself is change and growth. The past is fixed, and the future is uncertain, but the present is alive with potential. To live fully in the present is not to forget the past or ignore the future, but to dwell in the space between them—a space of possibility.
Lao Tzu, the ancient Chinese sage, reminds us: “If you are at peace, you are living in the present.” Peace is not found in clinging to one extreme or the other; it’s found in embracing the flow of life. This flow, like a river, doesn’t stop to dwell on the bends or rapids—it simply moves.
When we compare the present to the past and find them opposites, we miss the nuances in between. The extremes—what was and what might be—are just edges. The richness of life is in the in-between: where colors emerge, vibrations resonate, and energy dances.
Seeds of Thought
Our thoughts are gravity. They are like seeds. When we cling to extremes, we plant weeds that choke our growth. But when we embrace the space between, we plant seeds of possibility.
The ancient Indian Upanishads teach: “You are what your deep, driving desire is. As your desire is, so is your will. As your will is, so is your deed. As your deed is, so is your destiny.” This isn’t about choosing between extremes; it’s about nurturing what grows in the middle ground.
The Greek philosopher Epictetus reminds us: “It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.” Life is less about the extremes we encounter and more about the way we navigate the space in between.
An Invitation to Reflect
What would it look like to let go of the extremes? To forgive yourself not as an act of erasing the past, but as a way of stepping into the dynamic space where life is happening? Forgiveness is not a destination; it’s a path—a way of walking lightly in the present moment.
Rumi wrote: “Be like a tree and let the dead leaves drop.” Letting go of the weight of extremes—of who you think you should be or shouldn’t have been—frees you to grow into who you are becoming.
The space between extremes is not a void. It’s the fertile ground where life’s potential unfolds. It’s where we find freedom, creativity, and peace. It’s where The Thought Architect begins its work, designing a life built not on rigid lines, but on the infinite possibilities of what lies between them.
Step into this space. It’s where life is waiting for you.