I could be shooting myself in the foot, but in some ways, I feel

The writer and storyteller Marjorie Liu, whose words have shaped the worlds of fantasy and heroism, once reflected: “I could be shooting myself in the foot, but in some ways, I feel I’ve said all I’ve needed to say when it comes to, say, the ‘X-Men.’ I think I’ve hit the bright points, I think I’ve hit what I wanted to hit, and I can be happy moving on doing other things.” At first, this sounds like a simple confession about a career in comics, yet within it lies an ancient wisdom — the courage to know when a story is complete, the humility to move on, and the strength to embrace new paths.

To say all that one has needed to say is no small thing. Many chase endlessly after perfection, repeating themselves, clinging to familiar soil long after the harvest is done. But Liu reminds us that the true artist, and indeed the true human being, must recognize when their purpose in one chapter is fulfilled. To press on past that moment is to risk exhaustion of spirit, or worse, to dilute the truth once spoken with power. She shows us that wisdom lies not only in beginning, but also in knowing when to end.

She speaks, too, of bright points — the shining moments where her vision found its voice, where she struck the chords she most longed to play. In life, we all seek such points: moments where our labor bears fruit, where we know we have touched the essence of what we came to do. To have reached those points, to acknowledge them with gratitude, is a mark of both accomplishment and peace. It is the recognition that one need not hoard victories, but may move forward trusting that what has been achieved is enough.

History echoes this truth in the story of George Washington. Having led the American colonies to victory, he could have seized power and made himself a king. Many expected him to cling to authority. Yet he, like Liu, recognized that he had said all he needed to say through his service. He retired from the presidency after two terms, declaring his work finished in that role. His choice to let go at the right time became one of his greatest legacies, proving that strength is not only in taking power, but also in releasing it.

Liu also admits that such a choice may feel like shooting oneself in the foot — for to leave behind a successful stage is to risk uncertainty. The familiar is comfortable, the known is safe, and to step away can seem like folly. Yet the bold spirit embraces this risk, for the rewards of new growth outweigh the dangers of stagnation. In her courage, we see a model for all who hesitate at the crossroads: dare to step forward, even if it seems strange or frightening, for only then can you discover what else you are capable of.

The deeper lesson is clear: do not chain yourself forever to one achievement, one title, or one identity. Fulfill your duty, reach your bright points, and then release the past with grace. To linger too long in one field is to wither, but to move on is to allow the spirit to breathe again, to discover fresh soil for planting and new horizons for exploration.

Practical wisdom follows: reflect often on your journey. Ask yourself, “Have I said what I needed to say here? Have I learned what I needed to learn? Have I reached the bright points that called me to this place?” If the answer is yes, then do not be afraid to move on. Carry the wisdom and joy of that season with you, but do not cling to it. Open yourself to the new challenges awaiting you, for in them lies the next measure of your greatness.

So remember, O listener, the words of Marjorie Liu: “I’ve said all I’ve needed to say… and I can be happy moving on.” Let them remind you that life is a succession of stories, each with its beginning and its end. Speak your truth fully, embrace your bright points, and when the time comes, step forward into the next chapter with courage. For it is in this rhythm of release and renewal that the soul finds its greatest strength.