When Crossing the River of Change
Here on earth, humans seeking enlightenment gobble up stories of spiritual journeys. Apparently, it’s very complicated to attain. Thus, we have thousands of years of metaphors. Each designed to paint a picture in your mind of the pain and agony one must endure before reaching said enlightenment.
Many of the stories are about crossing the river of change.
Meanwhile.
The enlightened know a couple of things they try to tell us as we’re standing on the bank, staring across the raging waters. Since we’ve got one foot ankle deep in mud and the other knee deep in water and we’re bemoaning the ruin of a decent pair of shoes and it all looks so hard and perhaps this whole enlightenment thing is best discovered once we’re dead, we simply cannot hear.
If we could hear, a voice would whisper from the winds of change. If we could see, a bottle with a note in it would float by your drowned shoe.
Either way, the message would always be the same:
The journey is the fun part.
In fact, it’s the only part.