The Station By Robert J. Hastings
Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We
see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are
traveling by train.
Out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on
nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle
grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant,
of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of
mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village
halls.
But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a
certain day at a certain hour we will pull into the station.
Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we get there, so
many wonderful dreams will come true, and the pieces of our lives
will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly
we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering - waiting,
waiting, waiting for the station.
"When we reach the station, that will be it!" we cry.
"When I'm 18. When I buy a new car. When I put the last kid
through college. When I have paid off the mortgage! When I get
a promotion. When I reach the age of retirement, I shall live
happily ever after!"
Sooner or later we must realize there is no station, no one
place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is
the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly
outdistances us.
"Relish the moment" is a good motto. It isn't the burdens of today
that drive men mad. It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear
of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.
So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead,
climb more mountains; eat more ice cream; go barefoot more often;
swim more rivers; watch more sunsets; laugh more; cry less. Life
must be lived as we go along. The station will come soon enough.
<!--EDIT|WWJD
Reason for Edit: None given...|1089894706 -->
Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We
see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are
traveling by train.
Out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on
nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle
grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant,
of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of
mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village
halls.
But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a
certain day at a certain hour we will pull into the station.
Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we get there, so
many wonderful dreams will come true, and the pieces of our lives
will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly
we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering - waiting,
waiting, waiting for the station.
"When we reach the station, that will be it!" we cry.
"When I'm 18. When I buy a new car. When I put the last kid
through college. When I have paid off the mortgage! When I get
a promotion. When I reach the age of retirement, I shall live
happily ever after!"
Sooner or later we must realize there is no station, no one
place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is
the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly
outdistances us.
"Relish the moment" is a good motto. It isn't the burdens of today
that drive men mad. It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear
of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.
So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead,
climb more mountains; eat more ice cream; go barefoot more often;
swim more rivers; watch more sunsets; laugh more; cry less. Life
must be lived as we go along. The station will come soon enough.
<!--EDIT|WWJD
Reason for Edit: None given...|1089894706 -->
rofl
