You simplify because you cannot believe. You reduce; you diminish. Because you were raised to doubt and debunk. To reduce to a small set of knowns for easy digestion. Because you are a doctor, a man of science, and because this is America—where everything is known and understood, and God is a benevolent dictator, and the future must always be bright.
The butterfly does not look back upon its caterpillar self, either fondly or wistfully; it simply flies on.
Any legend, any creature, any symbol we ever stumble on, already exists in a vast cosmic reservoir where archetypes wait. Shapes looming outside our Platonic cave. We naturally believe ourselves clever and wise, so advanced, and those who came before us so naïve and simple… when all we truly do is echo the order of the universe, as it guides us…
Your heart is uncomplicated. It knows what it knows and acts accordingly. Greater wisdom is hard to find.
You think if you work hard enough, you can fix the precious things you’ve broken — rather than being careful with them in the first place.