What's the worst kind of hangover? Is it the one where you drink too much, or the one after you dedicate so much effort to something, that when you go to bed realizing it was all in vain, you wake up feeling drained of life itself? You wake up but you're still in a fog, still drifting between consciousness and comatose.
Eventually.
Eventually something will pull you out. Hot chocolate always seems to work. So now I can finally think about how so much effort can be so useless. Water, flowing down the rushing river; I watch it as I sit on the banks of a trail in Georgia. Its energy emanates, screaming out it seems as it rushes - unconstrained, unruly, unguided.
Blind.
The river that flows through me, it rushes. But in what direction I do not know. The brute strength of it crushes most obstacles in my path as I ride down it, in what feels like a makeshift canoe. It wasn't well designed. I see the river rush over everything ahead of me, consuming them like a tidal wave, and I wonder if I'm next. Even with a paddle, I feel like I have no control, and can only fight to not capsize. I pass large metallic spheres, half submerged, but untarnished and completely unaffected by the flow. Blind power alone will not erode them, and I pass them, looking back to see those impenetrable monuments. But they're gone. The water carries me so fast that they are now only dots in the distance. The water becomes rougher. I do what I can to avoid what seems like an increasing number of metal spheres, blocking my path like boulders. As I make it out of the slalom from hell, I feel it. My senses are gone, my eyes swollen shut, my ears deaf from the roar of the river. My hands feel out the curves of the raft I am in, or what's left of it at least.
It's to be my coffin.
What I cannot hear or see or touch I can feel. I feel the void as it sucks me in. I know I'm close. And soon I'm weightless - I've flown off the edge of the waterfall. I was supposed to fly. But I've clipped my own wings. And so I fall, clinging to my canoe as if it offers me any protection. It wasn't built to last, and neither was I. I've seen this cliff before, and I've met what lies below too many times to count. Able to open a single eye, I see the field of metal spheres that await me. They fill my field of vision. I close my eyes, let go of the raft, and then...
I break.
Woken by an alarm, I emerge from the void, but I am not whole. I am still broken. My physical body aches, my eyes swollen and my back sore. I feel slightly paralyzed, it's difficult to walk. I now sit on the banks of the river again, recovered, and determined. But also pensive. I look to my left, and see the wood I must use to build my canoe, and think ahead to the inevitable journey down the raging river. Today is different, however. The river has not changed on its own, but I will do just that with my own hands. I first build my ship, grander and sturdier than the raft I'm used to. I take time to prepare it for what lies ahead. Then I build a damn, controlling the river and storing its energy to be used upon my direction, to specifically target the obstacles I choose. There is now more energy than I will ever need. As I ride down the now calm and steady river, I see the metal spheres shatter, and I see what I once thought to be obstacles to be sources of enjoyment in my life, small islands that I stop at, that keep me smiling as I carry on my journey. I look beside me and see something I've never had. I see room for another, an empty seat for a co-captain, waiting to be filled. I smile. 'All in due time..' I think. But for now I sit back, pull my hat over eyes, and sleep in the sunshine. And so I flow, along this river of mine, headed only for the horizon.
Do not let your river run unguided, but do not control it so much that it stands still. Create the paths in your life for the river to flow, and only there will it run. Use your river, or else it will use you.
