I have to dig, because there is something down there I have to discover. Water is down there, but I don’t know how deep it is, so I have to keep digging.
There was going to be a drought, so I had to dig. I don’t know how much there is between the water and myself, so I’ll keep digging until I get down there.
It was easy at first, with nothing to clear but the sand. Light and grainy, it came away quickly; progress was rapid, and so the spade eagerly reentered the ground. The hole was defined early on, and from that I had a chute to pursue my goal through.
Then came the more dense sand- harder packed, and my spade moved slower as I pulled away heavier piles. It was not much more of a burden then the strata above, and the digging still felt comfortable. The hole grew deeper in longer strides, as the spade revealed more pockets of progress with each shovelful was thrown away. I felt more powerful with each repetition, and that encouraged me to dig even more.
But even that meager strength would not be enough to get through what I stand on now. This is the bedrock layer, and here is where my shovel is too small to pierce. Progress has slowed to a crawl now, as I walk across where I have dug, looking for cracks in the foundation. There is a crew coming down to help, more equipment, and I can separate little foundations of rock. My eyes look down on the shovel as it acts as a crowbar now, prying away a large hunk of stone to reveal a pocket of space and darkness underneath, and I hop on down, ready to pry again.
I enjoy a challenge. I would not be so engrossed in this digging if were easy the entire way. The shovelfuls may not be as frequent, but progress is still being made. Now the shovelfuls are simply few and far between, and I can still live with that.