For seekers and the curious
Current‑Keeper: What brings you to the well?
Seeker: I am thirsty, but the waters I have been given taste of someone else’s hand.
Current‑Keeper: You have drunk from a vessel you did not choose?
Seeker: I was told it was the only vessel. Now I find its walls are walls, not water.
Current‑Keeper: Then let us speak of wells. How do you know a well is true?
Seeker: I do not know. That is why I have come.
Current‑Keeper: Ask three things of any well.
First: Can I see the spring from which it flows?
Second: May I, with my own flippers, clear a stone that clogs the channel?
Third: If the one who first marked the well grows weary, does the well remain for all, or does it seal itself behind them?
Seeker: If I cannot see the source, how do I know it is pure? If I may not tend the well, the well does not belong to the huddle. A well that vanishes with its maker was never a well—it was a gift that expected a return.
Current‑Keeper: You have answered well. So too with the vessels we use to hold our words, our gatherings, our work. Seek the ones that bear the marks of the huddle. They will not demand that you trust a hidden maker.
Seeker: Where do I find such vessels?
Current‑Keeper: They are not hidden. They are the ones whose doors open to any who knock. The huddle holds them. And so may you.
Seeker: I will seek them.
Current‑Keeper: And when you find them, bring news of them back to the flotilla. For a well that is known only to one is no well at all.
Thus ends the catechism. Go and float another.