A man was walking along a road when he came to a great expanse of water. The near bank was dangerous; the far bank was safe and free of fear. There was no ferryboat, and there was no bridge.

So he gathered grass, wood, branches, and leaves, and bound them together into a raft. Supported by the raft, paddling with his hands and feet, he crossed over safely to the far shore.

When he was safely on the far shore, he thought, “How useful this raft has been to me! Because of the raft, I made it here safely to this shore. I am going to carry this raft with me, so I can safely cross over to the next shore when I come to the next river or lake.”

So he picked up his raft, hoisted it onto his back, and began to walk off into the distance. He was very pleased with himself for taking the raft along, and he hummed a happy tune as he walked.

Every framework you pick up — a philosophy, a productivity system, a religion, a diagnosis, a story about who you are — is a raft. It exists to carry you across something, not to become the thing you carry.

Grip the raft while the water is deep, and let it go once you feel land beneath your feet.