The anthologies of Jewish rabbinical writings preserve a parable about five sets of passengers who embark on a long sea voyage. When the ship puts in at a beautiful island midway through the journey, each party treats the island differently.
The first passengers will not even disembark. They are so afraid of missing the ship that they sit on deck and never set foot on the flowers. The second party goes ashore, walks among the fruit trees and fragrant groves, enjoys the island in moderation, and returns to the ship in plenty of time to continue the journey. The third party delays and arrives at the gangway just as the ship is casting off, climbing aboard hurriedly and without proper provisions. The fourth party stays too long, dashes for the boat after the whistle, and reaches it only as it is pulling away, grabbing the rail and hauling themselves up bruised and half-drowned. The fifth party forgets the ship entirely. They feast until nightfall, and when they finally remember, the sail is gone over the horizon, and the island's wild animals and poisonous fruits take them one by one.
The sages decode the image plainly. The ship is the sum of our good deeds, which carries us toward olam haba, the world to come. The island is the pleasures of this world. The first set refuses them altogether and misses the beauty God has placed in creation. The second set enjoys them in measure, which is the healthiest way. The third set cuts it close, saved but anxious. The fourth set is saved but scarred. And the fifth set spends a lifetime chasing sweetness and dies of the poison that was always mixed into it.
The parable does not tell people to avoid the island. It tells them to remember the ship.