February 18, 2017 § 4 Comments
If I were to represent our species with a symbol it would be an arrow. The direction of the arrow is unimportant; that changes quickly and often.
The important thing is that an arrow is going somewhere with all possible haste. And so are we.
Our existence is made manifest, validated, and given importance by how quickly we fly toward a destination.
But the goal, once we get there, is not a steady state, not a resting place. The arrow will move on, taking aim at another target, another must-get-to place it will fly right past, hesitating just long enough to check the accomplishment off the list.
“There” is a moving target, so we spend our lives in transit.
The sense of arrival is fleeting. Few rest on the laurels of a goal achieved, few rest, period.
I figure things out as I write, and looking at that last sentence I see I inadvertently revealed another side of the arrow-flight that is human endeavor.
We equate arrival with rest. And what is rest for?