There is a weighty balance between the present and the future, between what I have ever been and all I will ever be. Every choice is beautiful in what it embraces of the possible future. Every choice is horrible in all the possibilities it denies. Some choices deny fewer futures than others. The choices that deny many futures but embrace the most difficult are brave. I regard those choices most highly. I regard the one who decides highest of all when he makes the good, hard choice; when it is also true, right, and costly to the utmost degree in the currency of time and possibility.
For a young man, it is easy to choose if he knows little of the futures he denies in so doing. To make a hard choice when he is old is less costly in futures, but far more costly in how other men may view his past, all he ever has done.
I long to choose the hardest path. I often judge too quickly that the hard choice is good because it is hard, but the good choice is not always right. I choose to live with difficulty, to strive and wait rather than be easily sated. To a large degree, it is by my strife that I feel justified, though I am made righteous apart from - and entirely in opposition to - most I have done. Nonetheless, I long for an honorable life, a life with righteousness post-justified by my strivings, sweat, tears, bitterness, brokenness, kodawari.