The religious attitude appropriate to our time is not one of clinging to rocks but of learning to swim.
You know that if you get in the water, and if you have nothing to hold on to and you try to behave as you would on dry land, you will drown. But if, on the other hand, you trust yourself to the water and let go, you will float. This is exactly the situation with faith.
Someday, sometime, you will be sitting somewhere. A berm overlooking a pond in Vermont. The lip of the Grand Canyon at sunset. A seat on the subway. And something bad will have happened: You will have lost someone you loved, or failed at something at which you badly wanted to succeed. And sitting there, you will fall into the center of yourself. You will look for some core to sustain you. And if you have been perfect all your life and have managed to meet all the expectations of your family, your friends, your community, your society, chances are excellent that there will be a black hole where that core ought to be. I don’t want anyone I know to take that terrible chance.
"The word ‘travel’ did not occur to me, nor did the word ‘transformation,’ which was my unspoken but enduring wish. I wanted to find a new self in a distant place, and new things to care about. The importance of elsewhere was something I took on faith. Elsewhere was the place I wanted to be."
While people occasionally choose to push themselves to work some extra hours at times when something big is going out the door, for the most part working overtime for extended periods indicates a fundamental failure in planning or communication.