Seneca, Moral Letters 71.14

That which is short of perfection must necessarily be unsteady, at one time progressing, at another slipping or growing faint; and it will surely slip back unless it keeps struggling ahead; for if a man slackens at all in zeal and faithful application, he must retrograde. No one can resume his progress at the point where he left off. 
 
Therefore, let us press on and persevere. There remains much more of the road than we have put behind us; but the greater part of progress is the desire to progress. I fully understand what this task is. It is a thing which I desire, and I desire it with all my heart. I see that you also have been aroused and are hastening with great zeal towards infinite beauty. 
 
Let us, then, hasten; only on these terms will life be a boon to us; otherwise, there is delay, and indeed disgraceful delay, while we busy ourselves with revolting things. Let us see to it that all time belongs to us. 
 
This, however, cannot be unless first of all our own selves begin to belong to us. And when will it be our privilege to despise both kinds of fortune? When will it be our privilege, after all the passions have been subdued and brought under our own control, to utter the words "I have conquered!"? 
 
Do you ask me whom I have conquered? Neither the Persians, nor the far-off Medes, nor any warlike race that lies beyond the Dahae; not these, but greed, ambition, and the fear of death that has conquered the conquerors of the world. Farewell. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 71 

 
I have a weakness for an old 1990’s film starring Bill Murray, called What About Bob? It contains his trademark humor, with just a touch of dark comedy, and I find myself squirming whenever I watch it, much as I do from the painful shenanigans of Fawlty Towers. 
 
Yet what has stuck with me most over the years is a far more serious lesson: while Dr. Leo Marvin is an arrogant self-promoter, he has inadvertently stumbled across the wisdom of “baby steps”. 
 
To this day, whenever I am faced with a challenge that seems insurmountable, the phrase “baby steps” pops into my head. I can then laugh a little, which is of far greater help than I might think, and I can then also remember how just making it out the door is the first stage in managing the rest of my day. 
 
It’s silly, it’s hackneyed, but gosh darn it, it works. Break down the progress into manageable chunks, so that the whole does not appear as terrifying. When Seneca asks me to press on and to persevere, I need not feel intimidated by the vastness of the task. 
 
As much as I may fall back during those moments of weakness, the slightest bit of headway is a worthy achievement. A part of the trick involves a constant commitment to improvement, however slight, since maintaining a momentum keeps me from passively yielding to the prevailing wind. 
 
Once I stop being mindful, I have let my circumstances rule my actions, and a depth of consistency is more important here than a burst of intensity. 
 
Slowly but surely, my model for success in this life has shrunk drastically in its breadth, while it has grown substantially in its depth. It has long been clear that I will never become a bigwig or a wheeler-dealer, and that has probably been for the best, because it has cleared a path for what is truly significant.
 
Today, I intend to tame my resentment, and to offer kindness over callousness, and to apply a soothing balm for my grief. If I can address those little things, I have mastered myself. 

—Reflection written in 9/2013