Stubbornness is not strength nor persistence. It is cowardice in armor. It wears a cloak of empty syllables, echoing rigid doctrines that never touch the heart. The stubborn, like the coward, close their ears to the quiet pulse of introspection, tuning instead to the clamor of ego and dogma. Their principles are not earned through reflection but adopted as shields, their convictions performative, their empathy a mask donned only when untested.
Games become their compass: power struggles, soul battles, and social posturing replace genuine understanding. Others, sensing their fragility, become puppeteers, manipulating their fears and insecurities on a stage they mistake for integrity. They crave infatuation, a fleeting validation, but recoil from real love, which demands vulnerability. When the mirror cracks, they turn away, refusing to face the hollow core they’ve long ignored.
This is the essence of the self-imposed cult: a fortress built not on conviction, but on fear and self doubt. Because there is no learning, no growth, the stubborn remain static, predictable, manipulable, and ultimately breakable. Interpretations arrive before reading, and conclusions before seeing and hearing.
The wise do not engage intimately, for they know such rigidity cannot bend without shattering. True courage is not in holding fast, but in having the humility to question, adapt, and confront oneself, especially in the quiet hours, when no audience remains, and only truth looks back.
Life is meant to flow. Energy, substance, relationships, chi, will, consciousness—all move together in a seamless current. When stubbornness intrudes, it creates resistance, halting the stream and ultimately eroding the very flow that sustains life.