Often times, I wonder why we’re so reluctant to casually float down the stream of life. Why we’re so insistent on struggling against the current, lusting after bits of algae glued to rocks on the stream’s bed. We believe we know how delicious these morsels are, but all we have to go by is what we see from above the water’s glistening surface. Are we sure the grubs here are so much more gratifying than the ones downstream?
It’s sadder still to realise how territorial we are, squawking grotesquely as we wrestle to stake our claim on places we can’t hold; for the stream forever flows.