The Price of Truth

It’s going to be hard.
If it were easy, everyone would already be doing it.

What you call hard is the edge of your masculine practice,
the part that hurts is the place that can open you.

But what opens you doesn’t need to harden you.
Let the same fire that forges you also soften you.

To do something hard but meaningful.

No one said it would be easy.
No one said it would be full of flowers.
No one said you wouldn’t fall.

Falling isn’t your choice.
But getting up — that’s your fucking choice.

And getting up isn’t about proving your worth.
It’s about remembering your nature — steady, capable, alive.

Create systems so you don’t fight the same demons every day.
If you’re stuck in the same battles, it’s not fate — it’s a loop.

We all pay a price,
the pain of discipline or the pain of regret.

But the highest price of all is truth.
Because the price of truth is being 100% honest.

Be completely honest with yourself.
Not partly honest. Not “trying your best.”

If the same problems keep repeating,
money, health, love; you’re lying to yourself somewhere.

And yes, honesty is hard.
It asks you to see what you’ve been avoiding.
It asks you to stop pretending.

Honesty with yourself requires the death of illusion.
Comfort isn’t the goal — truth is.

When truth returns, effort dissolves.
Discipline becomes natural order.

Because virtue is not acquired — it is remembered.
You’re not becoming someone new;
you’re returning to who you’ve always been.

It’s the hardest work you’ll ever remember doing,
and the only path worth walking.

When you feel tired or scared,
remember the days you spent doing what you hated,
that’s why you made this choice.

So ask yourself —
What are you willing to give up to remember who you really are?