There is a stagnant swamp. I wonder if all paths and roads lead here. I presume they don’t as not everyone visits. But many do, or at least find themselves here for a time. But this isn’t the place to stay.
This is when we find ourselves seemingly content and lose the desire to move on. The land seems green, there is water. It is pleasantly warm. There is permanence too. But this permanence isn’t healthy. The land floods easily. It holds on to the water. It doesn’t drain, but we drain. Little by little our will, our desire to move forward, to keep journeying is drained; it ebbs away. The land is stagnant and that can spread to us. Bereft of desire, and will, we accept what is before us. We bemoan our predicament but desire not to change it.
There are routes around the swamp and also through it, but we need to look at the map and keep journeying. To stop and stay in this place will signal the end of our dreams, our goals, our ambitions. Even if we try to build, make an attempt to reclaim the land, we will not grow here. If we stay we will become stagnant, just like the swamp around us.
There is life here. Life adapted to stay in one place. Life that desires nothing more than to exist. Is there more to life and living? We’ll only know if we keep travelling and get out of the swamp.