"What's more important: The journey, or the destination?"
Seems like an obvious question. We've been told by teachers of all
time that obviously the journey is the "right" answer to this question.
Many people answered that the journey was more important. A few
people were candid and said although they *felt* the journey was the
right answer, their personal experience and place in life they still
-deep down- believed in the destination.
But what about me?
When I first posted the question, I felt an unease with my answer.
Part of me really enjoys the journey. Another part of me felt like that
wasn't an authentically true answer for me.
I had an inner nudge, almost like a nagging, that my answer was incomplete. I didn't know why.
So for the next day, I just didn't answer. I allowed my own question to bounce around inside.
Then the awareness and insight landed with me, and it felt so real
that I knew I had found the "real" answer for me. It may or may not
resonate with you, so as with everything I share... take it with a grain
of salt. Inquire within. See what feels true for you.
See, on one hand, I very much enjoy the journey. The discovery. The mystery. The unknown.
Yet part of me pulls back and also acknowledges I like the
destination. I like the completion. The sense of fullness. The
manifestation of potential.
It wasn't until just as I was reading everybody's answers and
landing with the question again, in a completely new and fresh way that I
realized how irrelevant the question is...
Because the journey is the destination, and the destination is the journey. It's only our perception that changes.
It reminds me of an analogy that David Hoffmeister (an ACIM teacher)
uses to describe our perception of linear time. He took a long uncooked
string of spaghetti and shows it lengthwise as a line to represent
time: past, present, future. Where we are through to where we're headed.
Then he rotates the string of spaghetti so that from your
perspective, you only see the end of it... the dot. No line. Just a dot.
New perspective. Same spaghetti.