When I was a wee laddie my family would take long road trips from Austin a few times a year out to the east or west coasts to visit family on either side of the nation. We would travel in a behemoth eight passenger 1992 Ford Econoline van with our motley crew of six; two frugal adults and four insufferable young boys. Every few hours, and later at a much higher frequency, one of us would inevitably ask that question.
“Are we there yeeeet?”
We were such brats.
As I look back on the memories of our journeys with fondness, full of roadside sandwiches and board games sliding across the seats, I'm reminded we asked that question so often because we looked forward to the destination far more than the road getting us there. Arriving meant seeing loved ones, going on fantastic adventures, trying new things and—if we were lucky—some of our favorite vacation treats. Despite our parent’s efforts to make it a fun bonding experience through stops at the Grand Canyon or buying us new books before we left, we didn’t enjoy the journey nearly as much as we could have.
Was this you too?
I read a piece recently which stuck out to me as a reminder that, in many ways, it can be easy to carry this habit with us. Though we rarely cry and whine out loud about it, wondering when we’ll finally have shifted from Here to There, sometimes that same feeling sits with us all these years later. This feeling of wanting to Get There—to finally have arrived. And later, after we have arrived to whatever destination our heart had laid out on the horizon, a feeling of What Now?
Is this starting to sound familiar yet?
A professor quoted in the piece says it this way: “Arrival fallacy is this illusion that once we make it, once we attain our goal or reach our destination, we will reach lasting happiness.” When I was young, the happiness I sought on these vacations came in form of time with family or a break from school or a summer excursion ripe with bliss. And yet, when I arrived I wasn’t automatically happy. Don’t get me wrong, my vacations were immensely joyful and formed memories I will treasure until my brain gets downloaded into an AI consciousness sometime in the next few decades. But the act of arriving, or getting to the destination I wanted to get to, wasn’t what made me happy. I still had to work, or rather, choose happiness upon showing up and stretching my legs at the end of the ride.
Now, much later as an adult working a job in an office with itself own A/C controller and cracking open toll bills as the mailman drops them, I'm sometimes tempted to feel What Now again.
As if setting the next goal and chasing the sun toward the mountains life sets before me will be the way I achieve my next bit of happiness. That since I’ve arrived here...wherever here is when this feeling crops up...I should immediately move into what’s next. Because the assumption my heart can sometimes slip into is that to continue enjoying my happiness in life, I need to be looking ahead instead of enjoying this. This moment, this day, this bit of my joy and journey right in front of me.
I’m reminded of a poem I've enjoyed for a long time…
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Replace Ithaka with whatever is set out in front of you. A promotion at your job. A coming addition to your family. Getting married. Finding a boyfriend. The passion project coming to fruition. That sweet, sweet upcoming trip we’re all going to drool over on Instagram.
The arrival will come. But the journey there is now. Better if it lasts for years, so to speak.
So, if as an adult you’ve had this sense crop up from time to time of being fixated on That Thing In The Future, (or maybe you’re feeling it today) join me taking some time Here to appreciate the roadtrip with all its books and bumps. To rest and enjoy and embrace the moments right in front of you, with all the people in the car.
Ithaka can wait. After all, as the poem says...it’s what you are destined for.
Don’t hurry the journey there.