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A parable
saxifrage flower
There was once a traveller who was lost. Sitting cross-legged on a rock by the side of the road, many people passed by. The traveller, wanting to find the way, asked the passers-by for directions.

Often the answer would be vague, as the other travellers would only have vague ideas of where they themselves were going.

Sometimes the answers were very specific, but no-one but the speaker would ever want to go where those directions led.

Rarely, but frequently enough, the answers were just what the traveller needed. Satisfied, the traveller would sit back in the familiar seat on the rock and wave as the helpful person continued their own journey.

Eventually however, the traveller became dismayed. No matter how often the traveller asked for directions, they made no progress on their journey. Good, bad, vague or detailed, no matter how much advice the traveller received on how to proceed, the destination never drew closer. The traveller continued to sit by the side of the road, bemoaning the hand fate had dealt.

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That's clever. I heard it said, perhaps less aptly but more succinctly: "Shit or get off the pot."

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