Endless precession

In hindsight, I realized that I never gave the river the time it deserved. It really was something special. The current was cold, and cool and a feeling was of contentment washed over all of us. As Mike would say, the day was solid.
But the best part was that on the river there was no definitive end in sight. Just an infinitely changing expanse of beautiful scenery that was a visual treat. It was never overwhelming, and it moved at just the right speed. The day went from Sunny, to pleasantly overcast and back again. It could have gone on forever, and none of us would have minded. We would have been better for it.

Or would we have? Because on the other hand, the human experience thrives off of making meaning through suffering hardships. Some would argue that good Art gets fueled by different forms of temporary suffering. Like what the Japanese call Wabi Sabi-- which argues that beauty resides inside imperfections. Wabi Sabi argues for an aesthetic that embraces transience-- or in other words, embraces the idea that this too shall pass.

They turn something frightening- the end of something- into something beautiful- the idea that we were able to experience it in our own space time, and that it was something only witness-able once. The beauty was in the moment. Any attempts at prolonging the moment indefinitely are seen as being perverse.

We mentioned that the river was heavenly. But that makes me wonder whether an existence that lacks both strife and an end could ever truly be heavenly? The river was a grand experience, and while the feeling was of a timeless wonderland, the river had an end. It was the end that made it meaningful.