The Journey

I was ensconced in the train between Edinburgh and Glasgow. In my comfy seat, admiring the sharply cut sidings, the wild grasses and ferns clinging on, the leaning trees with their new clothing of light green foliage, I would have been very content for the journey never to end, for the vista to remain open, wide, clear and new. Imagine gazing out at such beauty as this all day, I thought. … Imagine if life could become a never-ending journey…

There is something delightful about time held in suspense, while we are unable to do anything but sit peacefully and wait. After a long day, I was uncharacteristically reluctant to reach my destination and assume once more the role of decision-maker.

Placed against what I feel I was ‘expected’ to do, that particular journey felt fresh and colourful, throwing into sharp contrast the grey predictability of many of my usual vistas. Yet, do we not often see arriving at our destination as more important than the journey between points?  On crowded platforms or in samey airport lounges, do we not dream of arriving ‘on holiday’ – arriving at a place of perfection, a vista of joy? Often played out as this ideal ending, “arriving” becomes the place we reach where everything will be relaxed, happy, easy going, finally. I blame the movies, and books too, for leaving us with this feeling that if we can just manage to endure now for just now, soon we shall find a place of relaxation, throw down our heavy loads like grateful guests in a hotel lobby and rest our weary selves.

But why, when we are at home and living and eating and working and breathing and doing, can’t we simply bring more colour and refreshment towards us? Do we have to go to the Balearic Islands, or dream of escaping to the country, before we relax? Go through hell at the airports, waiting around to be told which queue to join to take off our shoes, remove our belts and wander in a daze through security? Pile on to charter flights and into seats that are never wide enough or long enough: Purgatory now, but just wait, it will be worth it for the heaven waiting at the end.

I suspect that one of the main reasons we flee in such numbers seeking rest in foreign parts is because we have forgotten how to be happy at home. Daily living constantly teeters on the brink of being deeply unappetising.

Suddenly aware of how ridiculous I can be, and how easily Life might be lightened and opened out to new colour and freedom, I’m sure I can make some changes around here. All suggestions welcome.

Albarracin