A man finds himself alone in the middle of the sea. He looks at the horizon, hoping for a rescue boat to show up and save him.
He grew up hearing stories. Stories of miracles. Stories of how help will appear from nowhere when he needs it.
He waits and waits and waits. Day comes and night falls, nothing happens. No help, no savior. When night falls, he weeps, and when morning comes, he hopes and keeps looking at the horizon. But no rescue boat shows up.
He was told to trust the process, so he grinds and grinds and grinds. But the results are not what he expects, not what he desires.
And when he asks if there is more to life than just grinding, waiting and hoping. Society castigates him and insists that he should just believe. He is told not to give up and that life is a journey.
But his journey is endless. He’s been on the road for decades and he is tired. He wants to get home.
And at the end of his life, when he is lying on his deathbed he wonders,
“I have trusted the process, I have kept the faith, I have remained in the journey, but surely, I never Arrived. My life has been a roller coaster of pain, anxiety and only few moments of joy. I never achieved what a desired in my life. I never experienced freedom, I never felt peace”.
He asks himself.
“Would his life have been different if he had stopped looking at the horizon and waiting for a rescue boat? Would his life have been different if he took matters into his own hands?”
He feels cheated.
Life is life
Fabio