On Direction

The first rain of the season has already fallen, and I watch the water flowing across the land. But where is it going? This question cannot be answered easily. Is the motion of the water aimless? Does its speed serve no purpose?

Yet this question does not arise only from observing the flowing water; it arises also from watching those who follow, moving like the water itself.

The water flows seemingly without direction because its source—the clouds—is itself without fixed aim. All it knows is to rain. It does not decide how much to rain, when to rain, or where to pour.

If the followers appear to have no goal, should we assume that those who guide them also lack purpose and direction? Are the followers themselves therefore aimless?

The answer, however, cannot be given by another. Each must discover for themselves who regulates their motion, who determines their path, and what underlies the seeming aimlessness. Only in this self-inquiry can direction be truly known.