Everybody tries to protect this vulnerable two three four five six seven eight year old inside, and to acquire skills and aptitudes for dealing with the situations that threaten to overwhelm it... Usually, that child is a wretchedly isolated undeveloped little being. Its been protected by the efficient armour, its never participated in life, its never been exposed to living and to managing the persons affairs, its never been given responsibility for taking the brunt. And its never properly lived. Thats how it is in almost everybody. And that little creature is sitting there, behind the armour, peering through the slits. And in its own self, it is still unprotected, incapable, inexperienced...And in fact, that child is the only real thing in them. Its their humanity, their real individuality, the one that cant understand why it was born and that knows it will have to die, in no matter how crowded a place, quite on its own. Thats the carrier of all the living qualities. Its the centre of all the possible magic and revelation. What doesnt come out of that creature isnt worth having, or its worth having only as a toolfor that creature to use and turn to account and make meaningful...And so, wherever life takes it by surprise, and suddenly the artificial self of adaptations proves inadequate, and fails to ward off the invasion of raw experience, that inner self is thrown into the front lineunprepared, with all its childhood terrors round its ears.And yet thats the moment it wants. Thats where it comes aliveeven if only to be overwhelmed and bewildered and hurt. And thats where it calls up its own resourcesnot artificial aids, picked up outside, but real inner resources, real biological ability to cope, and to turn to account, and to enjoy.Thats the paradox: the only time most people feel alive is when theyre suffering, when something overwhelms their ordinary, careful armour, and the naked child is flung out onto the world. Thats why the things that are worst to undergo are best to remember.But when that child gets buried away under their adaptive and protective shellshe becomes one of the walking dead, a monster. So when you realise youve gone a few weeks and havent felt that awful struggle of your childish selfstruggling to lift itself out of its inadequacy and incompetenceyoull know youve gone some weeks without meeting new challenge, and without growing, and that youve gone some weeks towards losing touch with yourself.