I don’t know if it was the combination of people in the room, or the way the sky looked through the blinds.
I don’t know if it was because it was close to 5 o’clock, or because today is my Friday.
It might’ve been because the cup of coffee I’d just made was the best I’d had in a long time, or maybe it was because I was in a good mood because I finally got in a solid night of practice last evening before band rehearsal tonight.
Maybe it was because of a discussion about new opportunities that I’d had earlier with a colleague.
Or it could’ve been the way the words filled the room.
We were in the middle of talking about our target for an upcoming campaign, and whether they were more about the journey or the destination.
“The journey,” we all agreed.
Yes, they were definitely journey people. They savored their moments alone, with friends or with family. They enjoyed the smallest parts that make up each day. They busied themselves with things that made their souls sing, their hearts swell and their minds curious.
I knew what the distinction was between journey versus destination, but never really felt like I was the former.
Maybe it was the way the sky looked through the blinds that made me realize there can be equal joy not only the blue sky days, but also in the ones where clouds cast a shadow. It’s less about the majesty in our sunrises and colors in our sunsets, and more about the arc of the sun through the sky each day, the birds on the wind, the breeze through the trees and their leaves that change ever so slightly from season to season. Today I knew I had nothing I wanted to fast-forward to, nothing that I wanted to bypass — and nothing had felt this serene for years. Or if it had, it hadn’t made itself known.
Having spent the last two decades focusing on my destinations along the way and glossing over the best part each day offers on my way to getting there (wherever “there” happened to be), tonight I am thankful for finally feeling more like a journey person. For slowing down, for breathing and for simply being.