Every once in a while, I save the fortune I received in a fortune cookie because it means something to me in the moment. Sometimes, when I later reread the fortune, I remember why it struck me as important. Other times, I have no idea why I kept it.
Recently, I came across a fortune reading:
“Sometimes the object of the journey is not the end, but the journey itself.”
I don’t remember what journey I was thinking of when I saved this fortune. I’m not quite sure why the message rang true for me at that time. But this week, when I came across the little slip of paper, I thought of how it applied to my situation in life right now.
The past twelve months have been quite a ride:
- Moving across country from a house to a retirement community, which moved into the serious stage a year ago this week
- Publishing my ninth novel, the last in my historical fiction series
- Taking on additional caregiver tasks for my husband and relinquishing others
- Becoming a local grandmother to my daughter’s two daughters
- Taking an Alaskan cruise — an actual journey, not a metaphor
Has my journey this year been about the end or the journey itself? I don’t have a single answer to that question.
In some ways, the object of my journey over the past twelve months has been the end, the completion of the travel—getting us moved and settled, and going on the cruise. A Life of Joy got published, which is a completion of that project, though now the marketing phase of this book and of my series begins (and continues).
In other ways, my journey this past year is ongoing and will not end for a very long time, if ever. Caregiving does not end as long as there is a person needing care and a person giving care. That journey evolves as the needs and capabilities of both parties change, but the relationship remains.
And building relationships with family members—including my grandchildren and their parents—is also an evolving process. Each of us changes, and the very fact of building the relationship changes everyone involved. My older granddaughter recognizes me and willingly spends time with me . . . most of the time. Sometimes she is shy or needs her parents, and not even a grandma will do as a substitute. The younger granddaughter smiles at me, but doesn’t really distinguish me from others who play with her. But soon she will. I will learn their changing ways as they grow, and they will learn mine as I age.
And so life’s journey goes. Some parts continue, and others end. Some change, others do not. We pick up new objectives and obligations as the days pass, and old ones fall away. Sometimes the goals we relinquish have been accomplished, sometimes they were abandoned consciously or unconsciously. Sometimes we focus on our journey and its end, and sometimes they simply happens without any reflection or attempt to steer them.
Each year, I set goals for myself, and every month or so I evaluate how I’m doing and whether my goals are still realistic. If I don’t steer my life, someone else will take the tiller. I’d rather I were the one in charge, though I often must admit I cannot control a situation and instead must wait for it to change or pass me by. When I’m in a situation I cannot control, that’s when I know the object is the journey, not the end. Those are the times when I will learn the most if I simply cope the best I can as life takes me on an uncharted path.
What is the object of your life’s journey at the moment?
I have some books to publish too.
My husband took early retirement as well, and let us see how we manage this in the uncertain time we are living.
Best of luck, Marina, to you and your husband.
Theresa
I love your assessment of when paths lead us on a journey rather than just to a destination. I wholeheartedly agree!
Thank you, Irene. I just wish I were able to relinquish control and learn from the journey. Theresa