The Journey Is the Gift

The goal gives us direction — but it’s the path that holds the truth.

The last day of warm summer, a whisper to go outside, alone. I followed it. Not the plan, not the map — just my heart. A bike ride, a carrot in my bag, a vague dream of meeting a horse.

I found it. But the moment didn’t match the image in my head. As I keep painfully experiencing that principle through different experiences, it never does.

And yet — just before that, I had stopped to hug a tree. It called me back, and I listened. Our bodies touched, and something deep and wordless passed between us. That was the real moment. The quiet magic.

I wrote:
“I am already on my way. And that’s enough.”

This is the practice. This is the art. Not chasing perfection, but arriving again and again into the present.