They start pressing the accelerator, sometimes relentlessly, only digging themselves deeper into the sand.
At some point, the vehicle, whether personal or collective, is buried so deeply that the doors can no longer be opened.
What is needed then is a shovel.
And someone willing to use it.
The value that emerges from this is nothing less than a track you can drive on again.
A path of personal emancipation and collective maturation in the tension between the old and the new.
Every time I have followed it, trust, clarity, and enthusiasm have grown.
