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Yesterday I failed practice. Oh I did twenty or thirty minutes but needed longer and I know it.
I unfairly shouted, swore, ranted and raved about nothing in particular. This does not happen often but is directly related to equanimity through practice, a side effect if you like.
Failure is an option for us lesser mortals.
All we can do is heed the inspiration of Orgasmic Bodhisattva Rumi:
Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come.