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It’s only when I go against my own principles and make a mistake that the decision ends up haunting me.

If I make a mistake while trying to do what I believe is right then it doesn’t bother me at all.

100%

I like the Egyptian Book of the Dead metaphor with the soul eater and the heart being weighed against a feather. I want my heart to be as light as a feather when I die.

Seems important.

I have a tiny feather in a small chiffon pouch in a small drawer in the room where I do Zazen to remind me.

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