A Free Will Analogy (please read)

[Winch]

This is somewhat of a continuation of my "flooded cave" narrative:

A flood of red slowly invades my world of predictable darkness.  As my eyes open, I am met with a blinding summer sun burning into my retinas.  After a period of acclimation, I begin to make out passing cumulonimbus clouds contrasted with a strikingly blue sky.  I slowly become aware of my present situation and identify my bed as a drifting canoe. 

I am powerless in my current situation.  The river pulls me to an unknown destination.  Innumerable factors affecting my course are nothing to me but bewildering scenery.  Jutting rocks litter my path, but the current guides me around them.  Branching channels are resolute, but flow by without consequence.  Fellow mariners are all around, and seem to be of two varieties.  The first, like me, obey the current and bask in complacency; either they give no thought to their end, or they believe there is no changing it.  The second variety seems to be made up of unrelenting souls bent on fighting the path that lies before them.  But why do they desire control?  Is choice worth fighting so many predestined forces and ruining such a relaxing surrender? 

Many seem to struggle in the same manner I imagine I would, if I were as foolish as they.  After a short period of hope, some of them falter and sink back into their floating coffins, for fear of drowning.  There are some, however, that are so skilled that the bank, boulders, and others on the water seem to move aside as they confidently guide their canoes toward their final destination.  Why should they be so blessed?  Were they born with an unfair advantage, or were they once as I am now?

My curiosity causes me to emulate their actions.  I grasp my paddle and make for a small, quickly flowing offshoot of the central current.  I leave the river behind, and may never see it again.  As my choice becomes irreversible, I become doubtful.  With a constricted path and daunting rapids, disaster seems immanent.  But I chose this route.  It is not the river’s fault; it laid its path before me, along with obvious reasons to follow it.  I commit to my choice, narrowly escaping sharp edges, tangled roots, and unstable cliffs.  My heart pounding, I quickly realize that I am fast approaching a reentry into the main channel.  I also notice those that have stayed on the central path, and the ease with which they drift with the ebb and flow.  After a short period of self-doubt, I realize what I have gained.  Those that have conceded to their fate have made nearly no headway, and have seen nothing unexpected, remaining much the same as those around them.  I quickly turn my focus downstream to new sights and challenges; I now know the thrill of choice.  My heart again begins to pound in reaction to my desire for free will, and instead of dreading the end of the trip, I welcome it.  I know that even though I am set on a pre-decided route, I ultimately have some decision in where I end up.  As I become more secure in my ability to navigate the narrow path, I begin to think about everyone else.  With so many waterways in the world, how can we all end up in the ocean without getting stuck in the mire?  While a few lucky souls will be set on a path toward salvation, most of us will not be so fortunate.  We will never escape unless we remember that some of us will be born in the swamp, and successfully navigating the path to water extending beyond the horizon requires discipline and perseverance.  Being sure to keep on the paths that assure my progress, the river begins to widen and the current begins to slow.  In the distance I see the banks give way to the great expanse of ocean that I was promised.  Closing my eyes in relief, I cannot help feeling a bit more confident in my position.