The Journey IS the Goal

I've had a recent setback in my journey towards recovery, and as I was silently listening one day, a thought came to me along the lines of the following: "the journey is the goal." As I considered that, I realized afresh that we humans typically see the goal as some "shiny object" out there that we're working for and we miss the reality that this day, this moment, is the goal, and how I live it will determine where I arrive one day. 

I'm not saying that having goals is wrong or bad but that it's wise to be aware that focusing too intently on that "shiny object" can prevent us from enjoying God and others and oneself today on the journey. I read the following poem recently in a Lent devotional reading along these lines:

Patient Trust
Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing though
some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste. Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances
acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit gradually forming within you will be. Give our Lord the benefit of believing that his hand is leading you, and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.

~Pierre Teilhard di Chardin, SJ

Letting Go and Giving Up

I was recently on a panel in a small gathering of college young women. We were gathered to tackle their questions about dating and marriage and family and singleness. One question asked was something to this effect: "Does being content in singleness mean I relinquish my desire to be married?"

In my journey of injury and pain, I remember that around 2-3 years into it, there was a moment when I let go of the idea that I might walk again without the aid of a device. I accepted the reality that perhaps I would need help the rest of my life with walking. In some circles of faith, this is anything but faith! But I had a sense of peace in letting go of my determination to walk independently someday.

This, however, didn't mean that I gave up on a normal desire; you can't really let go of what is normal human desire without dehumanizing yourself to do so. But I placed that human desire within the space of peace. I continue to work towards wholeness in my injured leg but now I do so in and with peace, without trying to control the outcome. (Control, by the way, always has some form of fear behind it.)

All this to say that I believe that letting go and giving up on certain good normal desires doesn't mean that the desire leaves us. It simply means we cease to try to control and force the outcome but instead we give the desire a place of peace to dwell in as we continue to hold it in our being.