Rubber Ducks


I used to play this carnival game as a kid. With a magnetic fishing pole I would try to catch one of dozens of rubber ducks moving in water around a circular track. Each duck had a special marker on the bottom to signify a prize, but otherwise they were identical, floating through this pre-determined track, bunched up together.

Are humans any different?

We also go in circles, with no real purpose, letting life’s current shape us instead of the other way around. The track is one week of time. Days stand out, but weeks never do. This week will be just like last week. Fifty-two weeks a year for you, and they will all be the same. The details may change but the way you live your life and the path you are on will never change. Tell me who you are today and what you believe and I’ll tell you what you will be doing ten years from now. Maybe a new car or a new house or a new lover or a new kid, but nothing the next person you see won’t experience. We are the ducks.

I wonder what it feels like to be a rubber duck getting plucked off the track, away from the safe but predictable current. It seems like it’d be scary, flying in the air like that, away from what you know, with little hint of what’s going to happen next. But I don’t know of a better way for a duck to live.

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