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What Lies Beneath “I Don’t Feel Like It”

What Lies Beneath "I Don't Feel Like It"

 

 

 

یہ مضمون اردو میں پڑھیں

I said it casually, almost as though it settled the matter. “I just don’t feel like doing it.”

He did not respond immediately. Instead, he looked at me for a few moments before asking, “Are you sure that’s the real reason?”

I shrugged. “What else could it be?”

“That,” he said quietly, “is exactly what you need to find out.”

His answer stayed with me. Until then, I had never questioned the sentence itself. If I didn’t feel like doing something, I assumed I had already explained the problem. Yet his question suggested that perhaps I had only described my experience without understanding it.

We say those words so naturally that they hardly attract our attention. “I don’t feel like studying.” “I don’t feel like working.” “I don’t feel like having that conversation.” “I don’t feel like starting.” The sentence sounds honest because it accurately describes how we feel in that moment. But does it really explain why we feel that way? Or does it simply bring the conversation with ourselves to an end before it has truly begun?

He explained it in a way that made me reconsider the whole issue. “When you say you don’t feel like doing something,” he said, “you are stopping the inquiry too early.” I realized how often I had done exactly that. Instead of becoming curious about my resistance, I had accepted it as the final explanation. Once I had said, I don’t feel like it, I rarely asked another question.

“Don’t simply accept the feeling,” he continued. “Analyze it.”

That sounded easier than it actually was. Analysis requires honesty, and honesty often asks us to look beyond the most convenient explanation. He began asking me questions I had never thought to ask myself. “Why don’t you feel like doing it? What exactly are you resisting? What do you imagine will happen if you begin? And what would become uncomfortable if you stopped avoiding it?”

That last question changed the direction of my thinking. Until then, I had been looking at the task itself. He was asking me to look at what the task awakened within me. Perhaps I was not avoiding the task as much as the discomfort I was associating with it.

He explained that many of our “I don’t feel like it” moments conceal something deeper. Sometimes it is fear. Sometimes uncertainty. Sometimes the possibility of failure, embarrassment, or disappointment. At other times, it is simply a lack of clarity. We have never truly decided that the task matters, so our minds naturally drift away from it. The behavior may appear to be a lack of motivation, but the underlying cause may be something entirely different. He was careful not to reduce everything to a single explanation. “Procrastination,” he said, “is not one problem. It can have a variety of causes.”

The more I reflected on that statement, the more obvious it became. Two people may postpone exactly the same task for entirely different reasons. One may be afraid of failing. Another may feel overwhelmed because he does not know where to begin. Someone else may simply find the task meaningless. Outwardly, the behavior looks identical. Inwardly, the reasons may have very little in common. If we assume every delay is laziness, we stop looking before we have understood the real issue.

He offered a simple example. “If you don’t feel like studying,” he said, “ask yourself: do you not feel like studying, or do you not feel like studying this?”

I smiled because I immediately recognized myself in the question. There were subjects I could spend hours exploring without noticing the passage of time, while others felt exhausting after only a few minutes. Perhaps the problem was not my ability to study, but my relationship with what I was studying.

“But don’t stop there,” he added. “Sometimes the reason is simply that you’re not interested. And sometimes the lack of interest is hiding something deeper.”

That was a more difficult possibility to consider. There are things we avoid not because they are unimportant, but because they expose us. A difficult conversation may force us to admit we were wrong. A demanding project may reveal the limits of our ability. An important opportunity may entail the possibility of failure. It is often easier to say, “I don’t feel like it,” than to admit, “I’m afraid of what this might reveal about me.”

“Your comfort zone,” he said, “is not merely a place where life feels easy. It is also the place where your limitations remain undisturbed.”

I had never thought of comfort in that way. We usually associate it with safety, yet comfort can quietly become a prison if we never question it. The things we avoid are not always beyond our ability. Sometimes they simply require us to move beyond what feels familiar.

As I looked back over my own life, I began to notice a pattern. There were conversations I repeatedly postponed, responsibilities I kept delaying, and opportunities I quietly stepped away from. Each time, I had given myself the same explanation: I just don’t feel like it. The sentence sounded reasonable, but now it seemed incomplete. It described my reluctance without explaining it.

One day I decided to test what he had been saying. There was a task I had postponed for weeks. Every morning I told myself I would do it tomorrow, when I was in a better mood or had more energy. This time, instead of postponing it again, I asked myself a different question. What exactly am I avoiding?

The answer came more quickly than I expected. It wasn’t the task. It was the possibility of not doing it well. That realization did not suddenly make me enthusiastic, nor did it remove my reluctance. But it did make the problem visible. Instead of struggling against a vague lack of motivation, I could now see what I was actually dealing with. And once something becomes visible, it can also become manageable.

I did not wait until I felt motivated. I simply began with a small step. The discomfort did not disappear immediately, but it no longer controlled the decision. I had begun to understand the difference between following a feeling and understanding it. Only then did I fully appreciate something he had said earlier: “Growth often lies in doing what you don’t feel like doing.”

He was not suggesting that we should ignore our feelings or force ourselves blindly through life. Feelings often contain valuable information. The question is whether we are willing to understand what they are telling us. Sometimes they reveal that we genuinely need rest. Sometimes they show us that a task lacks meaning. But at other times, they reveal the very place where we have become limited by fear, comfort, or avoidance. Those are the moments that invite growth.

Since then, I have become more cautious whenever I hear myself say, “I don’t feel like it.” I no longer treat the sentence as an answer. I treat it as the beginning of an inquiry. What am I really resisting? What am I afraid might happen? What is this feeling trying to protect me from? The answers are not always immediate, but asking the questions changes the conversation I have with myself.

Perhaps that is the real lesson. Our resistance is rarely random. It points toward something that deserves to be understood. Sometimes it reveals a genuine limitation. Sometimes it uncovers a mistaken belief. Sometimes it simply exposes a fear that has quietly been making decisions on our behalf.

The next time you hear yourself say, “I don’t feel like it,” resist the temptation to stop there. Pause for a moment. Let the sentence become the beginning of a conversation rather than the end of one. Because on the other side of that conversation lies something far more valuable than discipline alone.

It is self-understanding. And lasting change almost always begins there.

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The Day Urgency Took Over My Life

The Day Urgency Took Over My Life

 

 

 

 

یہ مضمون اردو میں پڑھیں

I said it half in complaint, half in resignation: “I don’t have time. There’s just too much to do.”

He just asked one question: “Too much of what?”

I paused for a moment and then said, “Important things.”

He shook his head gently. Then he asked, “Are they important, or have they just become urgent?”

That question made me realize something that I was missing. We often use the words important and urgent as if they mean the same thing. But they don’t. And the difference between them quietly determines whether we live our lives, or whether our lives run us.

He explained it in a way that made it impossible to ignore. “Most people,” he said, “don’t lose control of their time because they are busy. They lose control because they respond to urgency instead of importance.”

That sounded simple. Until I began to observe my own life. Urgent things demand attention. They come with pressure. Deadlines. Consequences. An email that must be replied to. A call that cannot be missed. A task that is due tomorrow. They create a sense of immediacy. Important things, on the other hand, are quieter. They don’t shout. They don’t demand. They don’t threaten. They wait. Planning. Health. Learning. Relationships. Spiritual growth. They matter deeply. But because they are not urgent, we keep postponing them.

He drew a simple picture. “Imagine a grid,” he said. “One axis is urgency. The other is importance.”

I nodded.

“There are things that are both urgent and important,” he continued. “These usually take over your time.”

Naturally.

But then he said something that changed the way I saw everything. “Most things become urgent and important,” he said, “because you didn’t give them time when they were important but not urgent.”

That was uncomfortable. Because it meant that many of my “urgent crises” were not accidents. They were consequences. He gave a simple example: Tax returns.

I smiled immediately. Everyone knows the pattern. There is plenty of time in the beginning. Weeks, sometimes months. And yet, we delay. I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll start next week. There’s still time. And then suddenly, there isn’t. The last week arrives. And everything changes. Now it is no longer optional. It is no longer flexible. It is no longer manageable. Now it is urgent. And because it is also important—it takes over everything. Plans are canceled. Commitments are dropped. Energy is drained. Not because we chose it. But because we are forced into it.

“That is the difference,” he said. “When something is important but not urgent, you choose to do it. When it becomes urgent, you have to do it.” That shift—from choice to compulsion—is where we lose control.

I began to notice how often this pattern repeated itself. Health. When everything is fine, we delay exercise. We ignore rest. We postpone care. Then one day, something happens. Now it becomes urgent. And suddenly, it demands attention, not on our terms, but on its own. Relationships. We don’t invest time when things are stable. We assume they will remain that way. Until distance grows. Misunderstandings deepen. And now it becomes urgent. But by then, the cost is higher. The more I reflected, the more I realized something uncomfortable. Urgency is often not the problem. Neglect is.

I asked him the question that naturally followed: “So why do we do this? Why do we ignore important things until they become urgent?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “Because of what is inside you,” he said finally.

That surprised me. “I thought it was just laziness,” I said.

He smiled. “It is rarely that simple.” He explained that behind procrastination, there are often hidden patterns. Fear of failure. Fear of imperfection. Lack of clarity. Avoidance of discomfort.

We don’t just delay tasks. We avoid what they represent. A difficult conversation. A challenging commitment. A responsibility we are not ready to face. So we postpone. And in postponing, we create urgency.

He suggested something that felt both simple and difficult. “Observe,” he said. “What stops you when something is important but not urgent?”

That question requires honesty. Because the answer is not always comfortable. I tried it myself. There was something I had been delaying, a task that required focus and discipline. Every day, I found reasons to postpone it. I’m too tired today. I’ll do it when I have more time. I need the right mood. But when I looked deeper, I saw something else. I wasn’t avoiding the task. I was avoiding the discomfort it brought. Once I saw that, something changed. The resistance didn’t disappear. But it became visible. And what becomes visible becomes manageable.

He then gave a very practical suggestion. “Don’t wait for large blocks of time,” he said.

That was interesting.

“We often think,” he continued, “that important things require big commitments. But they don’t.” Fifteen minutes. Half an hour. Small, consistent effort. If you have two months, and you give fifteen minutes daily, the task will move forward. And more importantly, you remain in control. That was the key. Control. Not over time itself. But over how you engage with it.

I began experimenting with this idea. Instead of waiting for the “perfect time,” I started giving small, regular attention to important things. A little planning. A little reading. A little reflection. It didn’t feel dramatic. But it felt different. Because nothing was piling up. Nothing was turning into a crisis. Nothing was taking over my life unexpectedly. Over time, I noticed a subtle shift. I was no longer reacting. I was choosing. And that made all the difference. In the end, what he had shown me was not just a time management technique. It was a way of living. A way of staying ahead of urgency. A way of honoring what truly matters before it demands attention.

Now, when I feel overwhelmed, I don’t ask: Why is there so much to do? I ask: What did I ignore when it was still manageable? And, more importantly, what is important right now, before it becomes urgent? Because in that question lies a quiet truth.

You don’t lose control of your life in a moment. You lose it slowly. Every time you choose urgency over importance.

And you regain it the same way: One small, deliberate choice at a time.

 

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Workshops on Understanding & Overturning our “Immunity to Change”

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Introduction

Why is it that even after reading about Emotional Intelligence and agreeing with it, one does not become emotionally intelligent? Why do team coordination, coherence, and performance not improve consistently after attending workshop sessions on such topics? Why do almost 90% of training workshops conducted for individuals or groups and rated very highly immediately after completion fail to bring about any significant change in the participants? Are the participants so utterly devoid of commitment? Motivation? Will power? Does the problem lie with team cultures? Do organizational environments discourage such transformations? Or is the resistance to making a change a natural phenomenon?

Join our workshop to find answers to these questions and to successfully make positive changes in your and your team’s performance. (For more information, click here).

Goal

The workshop is designed to achieve two goals: First, to help participants directly observe their psychological immune systems at work, and second, to help them overcome their respective immune systems.

Audience

The workshop is offered for individuals and existing teams (with a minimum of eight members). In the case of teams, the participation of the team leader will be mandatory.

Preparation

Before the start of the workshop, all participants are requested to work on and generate a few improvement goals for themselves that they want to work on during the workshop. Guidelines for determining our improvement goals will be provided to the registrants before the start of the session.

Organization

Part 1: Mapping our “Immunity to Change”

In the first part, each participant will be taken through the process of uncovering, recognizing, and observing their psychological immune system at work and how it frustrates their efforts in making meaningful and desirable changes in their lives.

Part 2: Overcoming our “Immunity to Change” (at the choice of the participants)

In the second part, each participant will understand and undertake the process of overcoming their immunity to change and successfully materializing their desired improvement goal.

Methodology

“Overturning our Immunity to Change” sessions are planned as a cooperative, conversation-based, and experiential exercise in understanding and reflecting on the experience and then overturning our psychological immune system.

Duration

For Individuals & Groups

The first part of the workshop is likely to be completed in 5 to 7 hours of conceptual and group work. After completing the first part, participants may take a break or immediately continue working on the second part. (Total time: approximately 7 hours)

The conceptual work in the second part will be completed in a maximum of 2 hours, after which the participants will continue meeting and sharing the progress in their respective experimentation work every week for 60 to 90 minutes. Depending on the participants’ progress, the second part will likely be completed in the group’s 6 to 9 weekly meetings (including the 2-hour session on conceptual work). (Total time: approximately 14 hours)

For Teams

All team members will be required to complete the sessions for individuals and groups (as given above). Besides that, an additional 6 to 8 hours will be required for teams. (Total time: approximately 30 hours)

Prerequisites

Completion of part 1 is a prerequisite for registration in part 2. However, after the completion of part 1, the participants can register for part 2 at their convenience.

Investment

  1. For one-to-one sessions: US $50 per hour.
  2. For group participation (with at least 12 members): US $20 per hour per member.
  3. For existing teams:
  • For at least ten members US $20 per hour per member
  • Teams of less than ten members US $200 per hour.

Registration:

For registration, please fill in the form here.

For queries, and clarifications, you may leave a comment below.

 

Video Introduction

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Imagination – A Natural Help in Forming New Habits

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“What about imagination?” I asked. “How can that be helpful in replacing any of our habits?”

“To understand the importance of imagination in helping us overcome and alter any of the habits that we feel are undesirable, due to any reason, we will need to briefly understand some relevant characteristics of our brain.” He said. Then, as if he was trying to buy time to arrange his thoughts, he stood up and asked, “I am going to make myself some coffee. Would you like to have some?”

“Sure.” I said, “But I would like to have my coffee in milk if that is not a problem.”

He looked at me with a smile and then disappeared in the kitchen. From behind the kitchen wall and through the open door, he said “All that I need, when I make my coffee is water, the Nescafe instant coffee-jar, with sufficient coffee in it, and the water kettle. Through experience, I know where all these things are. If someone were to disturb the placement of these things, it would affect the speed of my work, would slow me down, and sometimes even frustrate me. Now, when you told me to make your coffee in milk – which I am not so used to making – I have to figure out where the milk is in the refrigerator, which utensil to use to boil it and where to find that utensil, and the appropriate amount of instant coffee powder to put in the milk. Do you see how our habits facilitate and make doing the routine tasks easier for us, while because of the same habitual patterns, we can sometimes feel frustrated and blank when we have to do something which we are not used to doing?”

While he was talking, I too had walked into the kitchen and was standing behind him. As he finished, I said, “Yes. I understand that.”

Walking back into his library and sitting on his comfortable revolving chair, he said, “One of the characteristics of our brain is that it forms connections. Whenever we experience something new, a new connection is formed in our brain. These experiences can be of any number of kinds, from merely an exposure to a new word, or a conversation that gives us a new perspective or challenges any of our existing perspectives to suddenly being faced with a new life situation, as having to make coffee in milk.” He said, ending with light laughter.

He remained quiet for a few seconds, anticipating me to comment. I didn’t say anything. After almost a minute, he continued, “As we repeat our experiences, the connections in our brains are strengthened. And this develops our habits, whether they relate to the words we generally use in our speech and writings, or to respond to others’ comments or actions, or to carry out everyday life chores – like making coffee. On the other hand, if an experience is not repeated over a long time, the connection is weakened and, sometimes, the experience may even slip out of our consciousness. For instance, after being exposed and introduced to a new word, if you do not use it or are not exposed to it for some time, its meaning and usage can easily slip out of your conscious memory.

“Another relevant characteristic of our brain is that it cannot distinguish between reality and imagination. When you imagine something in sufficient detail and immerse yourself in that image, it is as good as real for the brain.” Suddenly, he stood up and walked to the bookshelf on his left and took out a small, blue-colored book. I could read the title ‘Silva Mind Control Method.’ He shuffled through the pages. Then finding what he was looking for, he started reading out from it:

Imagine that you are standing in your kitchen holding a lemon that you have just taken from the refrigerator. It feels cold in your hand. Look at the outside of it, its yellow skin. It is a waxy yellow, and the skin comes to small green points at the two ends. Squeeze it a little and feel its firmness and its weight.

Now raise the lemon to your nose and smell it. Nothing smells quite like a lemon, does it? Now cut the lemon in half and smell it. The odor is stronger. Now bite deeply into the lemon and let the juice swirl around in your mouth. Nothing tastes quite like a lemon either, does it?

At this point, if you have used your imagination well, your mouth will be watering.

 

He closed the book and looking at me, he asked, “Do you understand what it means?”

“Yes,” I replied. “But I do not understand how this characteristic of the brain can be a helpful tool in getting rid of any of our undesired habits?”

“Keep in mind how habits are formed in the first place,” he said. “As I mentioned earlier, it is the repetition of our actions that forms our habits. When you do something repeatedly, it naturally becomes easier for you to keep doing it and more difficult for you to change it. This is the time that that action has become a habit. Now, if you combine this fact with the understanding that our brain cannot distinguish between something that we are actually doing and something that we are only imagining, you will see how our faculty of imagination can help us in forming new habits and replacing old ones.”

“Can you please explain how can we practically make it happen?” I had my question ready, even before he completed his sentence.

“Some time back, I developed the realization that whenever something transpired that was not to my liking or in keeping with my expectations, I would start getting uptight, extremely tense, angry, and frustrated. I would immediately start looking for whose fault it was and then try to confront the ‘perpetrator’ with my inquisition. As you can guess, it rarely solved any problems and never succeeded in righting the wrong that had already transpired. But, it did create a lot of heightened tensions in my relationships and caused me further agony over my role in those strained relationships. Once I had this realization, I wanted to get rid of this habit…”

“Did you decide about your motive for change?” I interjected.

“Yes. My agony over strained relations was giving me a clear message that I needed to be more understanding, more caring, more compassionate, and more accommodating so that people – and especially those closely related to me – could feel comfortable being their real selves with me.” He replied quickly and then continued, “So, having decided to try and get rid of this habit, I used the imaging-technique. I would sit silently just imagining and visualizing – in as much detail as possible – a scene that would generally trigger tension, anger, and frustration in me. But, in my visualization, rather than getting tensed, angry, or frustrated, I would imagine staying calm and telling myself that nothing is worth straining my relationships with those who are so dear to me. I would imagine refraining from making judgments about the situation and listening to everyone involved in it, trying to understand their individual perspectives. Then I would imagine responding to the situation in a manner that would safeguard and protect anyone involved in the situation from being hurt or distressed.

“In the beginning, this imagination seemed unreal. As if my brain was resisting my calm response to the situation. However, as I continued practicing the imaging-technique, it gradually became easier for my brain to accept it as an alternative reality.

“However, not too long after I started this practice of visualization, I became more conscious of my reactions. Even if I could still not control them, there was definitely an inner voice that prompted me to stop. Then, after a few weeks of continuing to practice the imaging-technique, I started controlling my reactions too – not every time but there was some improvement that I experienced and felt encouraged with.

“I cannot say that I have completely overcome my old reactive habit, but I know that I am moving in my desired direction, even if only one step at a time.” Then he looked at me smiling – a smile with a slight touch of embarrassment, I reckoned – and asked, “Does this example clarify the role imagination can play in forming new habits?”

“Yes. I think it does,” I said, nodding my head.

 

Lahore, Pakistan
June 09, 2020

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A Strong Motive – A Necessary Ingredient

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He was quiet for a while. Probably, he was anticipating a question or a comment from me. But my total surprise at what he had said did not even allow me to open my mouth. I was still trying to digest what he had said, when I heard him continue, “Before moving on to any further steps to take with regard promoting such moral principles – as altruism – I would like to stress the importance of two concepts: one relates to our motive for striving for any change in our current habits; while the other relates to our ability to imagine what currently does not exist. Both of these can play a vital – sometimes decisive – role in our success in bringing about any change in our attitudes and behaviors.”

“But I find these to be two completely unrelated concepts,” I said. He looked at me very seriously and said, “Our motive gives an answer to the ‘why’ for any efforts that we expend in this regard; and our imagination gives an answer to the ‘how’ and the ‘what’ for our efforts.”

I said, “I am listening,” prompting him to continue. “You see, it requires some serious effort to change an old habit. Most of the time we may find ourselves continue doing what we are used to doing even though we had decided to change it, only because of our deep-rooted habits or mental patterns. Our brain has a strong tendency to stick to old habits, as it finds it safer and more secure sticking to the already trodden paths. To get our brain to hold back from this tendency so that we can take a different course of action, which is in consonance with our decision to change, and then persisting in this effort requires us to have a strong motive, which we personally hold dear. Without such a motive, we are not even likely to consider expending any effort in this regard. “There are two aspects of having a clear motive that we must be consciously aware of: One, the motive should be intrinsic, rather than extrinsic. This means that we should not undertake such a moral act for any appreciation, recognition, or reward. “Another important, though related, aspect is that it has to be a value- or principle-based motive, not a drive-based one…” This time, I could not resist interrupting and said, “What kind of a distinction is that?”

His gaze shifted to the bookshelf standing behind me as if he was searching for a book. Then he said, “Can you hand me that book titled “Culture Against Man” by Jules Henry. It is on the second shelf at the right.” It was an old, blue-colored, paper-back edition. I took it out and handed it to him. Taking the book from my hand, he started scanning it. Then, finding what he was searching for, he looked at me and said, “Listen carefully to this,” as he started reading out from the book:

“Ours is a driven culture [the author is writing about the United States, but the similarities, in the stated regard, are obvious]. It is driven on by its achievement, competitive, profit, and mobility drives, and by the drive for security and a higher standard of living. Above all it is driven by expansiveness. Drives like hunger, thirst, sex, and rest arise directly out of the chemistry of the body, whereas expansiveness, competitiveness, achievement, and so on are generated by the culture; still we yield to the latter as we do to hunger and sex. Side-by-side with these drives is another group of urges, such as gentleness, kindliness, and generosity, which I shall call values, and in our culture a central issue for the emotional life of everyone is the interplay between these two. Values and drives – other than physiological drives – are both creations of the culture, but in the lives of Americans, and indeed of all western men and women, they play very different roles. A value is something we consider good; something we always want our wives, husbands, parents, and children to express to us, to shower on us when we are gay, to tender to us when we are miserable. Love, kindness, quietness contentment, fun, frankness, Honesty, decency, relaxation, simplicity belong here. “Fundamentally, values are different from what I call drives, and it is only a semantic characteristic of our language that keeps the two sets of feelings together. To call both competitiveness and gentleness values is as confusing as to call them both drives. Drive is what urges us blindly into getting bigger, into getting further into outer space and into destructive competition; values are the sentiments that work in the opposite direction. Drive belong to the occupational world; values to the world of the family and friendly intimacy. Drives animate the hurly-burly of business, the Armed Forces, and all those parts of our culture where getting ahead, rising in the social scale, outstripping others, and nearly surviving in the struggle are the absorbing functions of life. When values appear in those areas, they act largely as brakes on driveness. Though the occupational world is, on the whole, antagonistic to values in this sense, it would nevertheless be unable to function without them, and it may use them as veils to conceal its underlying motivations.” (Culture against Man, Jules Henry)

Then placing the book on the table by his side, he looked at me and asked, “Do you understand the difference?”

“I think so,” I said. “I gather, according to this author, honesty, compassion, empathy, etc. belong to what you have termed as ‘value- or principle-based motives,’ while more growth, increasing profits, beating the competition, etc. are what you call ‘drive-based motives.’ Is that right?”

“Yes. That is how I see it. But, there’s another very important aspect that he has highlighted in the statement: ‘When values appear in those areas, they act largely act as brakes on driveness,’ and that is the reason why it is so important in my view to not only be fully aware of the reason for our adherence to such values but also to be fully committed to them, even if we, as individuals have to sacrifice a personal gain – a drive-based motive – along the way.”

“So, what do you think should be one’s motive to strive for changing one’s habits?” I asked. “I think that question has to be answered individually by everyone who commits to traveling this road.” He said. His answers such as this one always irritated me. “Give me a hint, at least,” I said. “Ok.” He said, smiling. “Just pick that small frame from the table by your side and read it out.”

“It is something Mother Teresa has said,” I said and started reading out,

 

People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway. If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”

 

 

March 04, 2020
Lahore, Pakistan

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