You can try. As you set out on your journey, you can try and reach your destination. But you won’t make it. That vision of what you thought you had, glimpsed in some moment of abandonment, the unstructured play the garden of our childish inspiration. The dream of what you are to become. But you won’t get too far. A step or two before the forces will bear down upon you, turn you the way to inevitability. No person makes their destiny. No one is master, architect, God of their fate. Life is not evil. Consciousness is not our burden. The madness is the dream. But we can’t abandon the dream. We are desiring machines and So instead we tell stories. Find the other through their imagined possibilities. Then collapse, take in their sustenance and inspiration returns, I am going nowhere. And yet I am everything. Hope, she says. And Hope she is. This is the real source, the true fountain of our faith. 10,000 words cannot convince you. It has to be experienced to be believed.