In a misty rain, stumbling hastily into the blackberry bush, umbrella caught by its massive branches, hands pricked by sharp thorns, clothes wet by rain dews, you happily collect the first few ripe blackberries and are satisfied by their rich piquant flavor: it perfectly completes your dinner of pan-seared sea bass. Then suddenly you realize something: your mind moves too fast, seduced by bigger berries far ahead within your horizon, while your feet are blocked by dense grasses and thorny stems. But you also know: if you only look at where your feet set in and let your feet drag you, you may never get to those bigger berries, or when your feet finally move there slowly, those berries may not be there anymore. Such is the dilemma of an explorer who constantly sees the broader and profounder and lives the future in the present, yet may never accomplish the journey.
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