Photo by Max Böhme

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A life spent adapting to the new, to the real, and not the flattened images of reality that ideologies give us, is as calm as a leaf on the river Time.

That is to say, you will definitely get tossed around a bit, but in general will inevitably be carried along to the same destination as the rock that obstinately tries to oppose the relentless current. The difference is that the leaf arrives at its destination more or less unharmed, while the rock turns up in pieces — broken, eroded, and scattered.

“We find ourselves in a river. Which of the things around us would we value when none of them can offer a firm foothold? Like an attachment to a Sparrow: we glimpse it, and it’s gone.”

~Marcus Aurelius

We all know — or sometimes have been — the rock; that person who the Japanese might describe as unable to kuuki wo yomu (a term that loosely translates to “reading the air”, or the mood of the room), so it’s not hard to grasp how following and accepting the direction of the current might result in a smoother ride.

Take a moment, and ask yourself: how do the waters around you feel right now? Are they churning and bumpy, or calm and still? Your feelings are real to you.

Now, how do you wish those waters around you felt? Start paddling over there, because that place is also real.

I know this, because a question I’m trying to answer for myself, is: how can you desire to feel a certain way, if you’ve never felt it before?

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