The ferry crossing time’s river reveals how innocence gives the newest of us nearly as much truth as we ever encounter. As we leave the dock to begin “the ride”, even under terrible conditions, it is exciting as it ever gets. Before we grow used to the currents, before the boat, wind, trees, air and sky change colors, shapes and seasons, we experience as full an openness as we ever will. But this is scarcely recalled and soon we take the oars: we must work, and encounter the world. (And in the world beyond analogy: the work varies if one has the choice and grinds regardless of the circumstance if one does not.) But from the first grasp of the oar new questions arise: Is this right for me? Is she or he right for me? What’s the point? And the great haunting of mortality begins. However, before midstream, a banquet of questions bloom, aided by the power of youth and the promise of time as experimentation. Yet this makes it easy to entertain questions and avoid answers — to avoid choices. And as the ride progresses, often the answer will be time itself and what we’ve fallen for or on as we simply — settle. This is the crucial moment. It can happen earlier or later, but it’s whether to let the questions and choices flit away, dissolve in our wake or press on — or it may be, rather than just drift to our end on automatic, the integrity of telling the truth rather than falling for fantasy.
Might this slender reed be our morning star?