We often lose our way at sea. Trapped in a small region where the waters are never still. A whirlpool with an island on either end.

We first lose our way chasing the mesmerizing waves of Pleasure only to find ourselves resting on the island of Pain.

Hurt and desperate, we instead decide to brave the treacherous waves of Pain so that we may reach the island of Pleasure.

But this too is a great disappointment, for the waters are poisonous and we grow thirsty.

Desperate for relief, we once again traverse the waters of pleasure. We know the destination. We cannot fight the current. Yet we cannot help it.

And on we go. Back and forth. Restless. Exhausted. Trapped in a pattern. Caught in a cycle. Lost at sea.

We do not dare to explore beyond this small region. For what lies ahead is nothing but water. At least here there is land, however treacherous.

But once in a while, a brave soul ventures out. They travel out to the open sea where the waters are always still. And lay down their oars.

They float. Gently drifting.

At first there is the boredom. And then the fear. But the brave one quickly realizes that the water is carrying them. Beyond the horizon.

To exactly where they are supposed to be.