Should I write this—or not? It’s a question that reflects the constant inner battle between two opposing voices: one urging action, the other caution. 

Imagine seeing someone injured in an accident. Do I help, knowing it could involve risk—or do I walk away, minding my own business? 

In the workplace, when an executive asks me to do something unethical, do I oppose him, risking consequences—or comply and gain his favor? 

Some days, a voice tells me not to go out, warning that something could go wrong. Do I heed the warning, or dismiss it and carry on? 

When a doctor advises me to avoid sugar, salt, and fat, do I comply for the sake of health—or indulge, thinking life is too short to skip the pleasures? 

These dilemmas extend into personal relationships too. If my wife’s words hurt me, do I retaliate—or let it go? When a friend asks for money, do I lend it and take the risk—or politely decline? 

Even routine decisions aren’t immune to this internal tug-of-war. If I feel lazy about exercising, do I skip the session—or push myself to stick to the plan? 

Life is full of decisions—each with its own set of consequences. But how do we know which voice to listen to? Is it Dr. Jekyll, my rational side? Or Mr. Hyde, driven by impulses and fear? 

Ultimately, I’ve learned to trust the quiet inner voice that whispers what’s right. It rarely shouts, but when I listen to it and act according to my conscience, the outcome—whether good or bad—feels acceptable. 

True happiness lies in knowing you did the right thing, even if the results weren’t what you hoped for. Acceptance, both of the outcome and of yourself, is the key to peace. 

Contd. 358. Open Mind Closed Doors