First, I acknowledge my presuption that what I am doing can/will make me better. But let's not dwell on such a trivial matter (as I blush a little from embarrassment, knowing just how great the odds are that I may be wrong).
* * * * *
Let's pretend I am on the East Coast, and I know only two things, things we shall presume are true:
1) If I get to the West Coast, all will be well, and
2) Between me and the West Coast lies the Rocky Mountains, a very difficult impediment.
* * * * *
Now, take note of what I do not know.
1) I do not know about the Appalachians or the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
2) I do not know about rivers.
3) I do not know about long stretches of plains without water.
4) I do not know how far away the West Coast is, nor do I know where the daunting Rocky Mountains are.
* * * * *
All I have is a compass and the knowledge that if I keep going West, I can be free.
[In case you don't spot a portion of the comparison right off. My "compass" is the knowledge that may changes are taking me West. I know West by feel. For this metaphor/analogy it's a real compass.]
* * * * *
Now, add that I am walking and that I am barefoot and that my feet bleed often. Let's say I suffer from ankle fissures. Walking across the room can be an ordeal, and I am trying to cross a continent.
* * * * *
There you have it. That is what it is like.
Consider that I have now been walking a very long time.
Early on, every pass I reached in the Appalachians, I was certain was the highest apex of the Rocky Mountains. I'd thought the hardest part was over, time and again, not knowing I had barely begun.
Now, I am exhausted, still not knowing if I have crossed the Rockies.
For all I know, I am still in the East, or perhaps I am in the foothills or the California Central Valley, ever so close to reaching the coast.
All I can do is keep moving west.
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