Come with me. Let’s get out of this waiting room. I want to take you to a place not too far from here. Wander with me.

I know that you’re tired, and that you have so much to do tomorrow.

I know that you’re committed to your normal life, to your paycheck valleys, to your wanting peaks of debts. You don’t see the cobwebs up above. You don’t see the trees that walk with you as you walk. I know you’re whole and happy, never missing, never lost. Still, come with me.

Let’s take the freeway. The free, way. I know that I’ve been inconsistent, and so full of myself. I know that you don’t trust me alone and that my plans scare you. I know that I’ve been stubborn, capricious, altruistic, senseless. Still, come with me.

Gather your things. Leave your coat behind, you won’t be needing it. Say goodbye to your cat and don’t look back as you close the door. Let’s go.

That’s the river of truth down there. They say that for every man that’s jumped in it, two come out. The one that jumped, and the one he set free.

See the forest to your right? That’s solitude. It’s violent as it’s peaceful, it loves everything that roams in it, from the ant to the eagle, it runs fast after things it can never have, and when it gets tired it burns itself.

No, don’t fall asleep, we’re almost there.

Up ahead there’s a steep curve, it will seem as if we’re about to go down a cliff, but we won’t. Follow the ground, one step, another, follow the ground, don’t lose sight of what’s real.

I’m glad you’re smiling, it’s been a while, a lifetime even. Close your eyes. Place your hand upon your heart, breathe. You’ve always been there. Think of your struggles and your sacrifices, of your failures and self-made hells, and put them behind you. You’ve always been there, within you, pumping life onto yourself so you could try it again tomorrow. Be grateful for you and finally say hello to yourself.

We’re here. The sky is swollen gray. There’s nothing for miles. Just you and me in this arid land. This is it. This place is where you don’t get what you want. Cry, rage, it won’t matter. This is where the worse in you happens. I’ve been stubborn, capricious, altruistic, senseless… and I haven’t been here all that long.

Take my hand and let’s start running. -Why, if it’s all the same?- This is like the curve back there, trust what’s real. One step, another, feel the dust swooshing under your feet, feel your heart beat again, you’re still there, feel the sweat down your back, and you running away, running forward, all is possible, you’re not finished.

You may have thought you were finished two days ago…when you were too comfortable bouncing from your couch to your executive chair, being happy within reason, always within reason. You couldn’t pull through then, but you can now.

The place where we don’t get what we want is the same place where we get running. After seeing and being the worse we could be, after crying and raging and asking why, we get running, and out of the sky a hand reaches for us, it lifts us. We can’t breathe, we feel the dry land no longer beneath our feet, there’s water, fresh water everywhere, we swirl and flap as we ascend, one kick, another, another…

We reach the surface of a deep river, a river we had seen on our way to the place where we don’t get what we want. The river of truth, where for every man that jumps in, two come out.