It feels good to cast people out. To exclude them. To point out how they may be less than or different. If the focus is on the other’s shortcomings or differences, there’s less attention paid to our own faults. And it’s easier to define a group by those who are rejected, by a shared dislike instead of a shared interest.

On the other hand, it feels infinitely better to welcome someone in.

We usually think of change as a big, challenging thing we have to go through in life. In theory, it seems like a painful rite of passage. But the hardest part is really what happens after we change, when the world meets our new self.

When we know ourselves through and through, and we recognize the goodness inside, it’s easier to see those insults as what they are: limp and meaningless. There’s an old Buddhist saying that goes something like this: “If someone calls you a dog, don’t get angry. Instead, just look at your bottom. If you can’t see a tail there, then it means you’re not a dog. End of problem.”

The contrast between the momentary peace he had felt and the harshness of daily life is something we all experience throughout our lives, in various ways. We think we have everything figured out, then some harsh reality crashes back in. All of Martin’s progress and growth hadn’t evaporated -- he was just experiencing a “valley” after weeks of “mountains” -- a moment of challenge after a moment of peace.