It's not the destination

Strange thought occurred to me, some time between leaving a party in hayes at 10:45 and arriving home 2 hours later. I was walking home, a two mile journey through the remnants of the party in Watford High Street, with huge blisters and that strange feeling you get when your thoughts just drift off into nowhere. Or overtired, as most people call it. So for a time I just gave up thinking, and walked around in that strange zen state that I find somewhere between being awake and asleep. And my feet just seemed to know where they lived and how to get there.

Sometimes when you reach that place, if you listen hard enough you can sinething speak to you. Maybe it's a spirit, or maybe it's your true self, when not clouded by all the thoughts and memes you cloud it with. And for the second time in one day I just let it speak, with no other aim than to hear it. Somehow the real purpose of my journey (to get in from the rain, to get to bed) didn't matter anymore.

I learnt a lot of things from the journey. Most importantly, I learnt that this time of year, when I'm going to spend so much time walking around in the dark, a vital part of my happiness is going to be how I approach these journeys. If I concentrate on just reaching my destination, I'm going to hate everything that slows me down. Desire to frustration and unhappiness in 2000 simple steps. But if I come to love the journey, and treat it as an end in itself, leaving myself open to thoughts and peace in the noisiest places and coldest winds, I might just stand a chance of enjoying this Winter.

And I made it, and slept for 12 hours.