Humanity has typically believed that external forces influence life’s narrative, both globally and personally. Within ancient books and plays, gods and goddesses tend to influence the action, often directing someone’s blow to strike where it makes the most impact, or they help someone survive when he otherwise wouldn’t. And sometimes god comes from the machine to significantly alter the course of an otherwise obvious ending.
There are those that proceed upon a journey, full of trust in a Creator they believe will protect them in an unknown wilderness, relying on this Almighty’s guidance to see them through. Even inspiration itself comes to us as if by some external means — why do we suddenly know something we never knew before? Random chance is not a satisfactory explanation for the obvious narratives we experience as individuals and as a greater society.
In more modern interpretations, we do not see ourselves as playthings of the gods, mere rag-dolls to be thrown around. No, we have become fragments of God himself — and divine powers are ours if we only realize the truth of our situation. But for some reason this truth is elusive, we’re not meant to fully grasp it in its entirety all at once, for perhaps we’d choke on its enormity. And so we enter this world ignorant of what we are.
To those that seek, truths are revealed. And from these seekers come sips from a common well of wisdom. Yet like any interpretation, much is lost in translation. Dirty cups taint and spill as contents are transfered ungracefully. For the undiluted truth, we must personally walk the path. If we are to see, it is our own eyes that must open. A seeker’s role is not to teach of what he finds, but simply point the way to the well — allowing he who thirsts to quench himself.