Travelling in the Moment

For those who don't know, I belong to a group that researches and recreates the Middle Ages and Renaissance. (That's not very many of you, but there are a few.) While it doesn't actually have anything to do directly with my Witchy little path, it has given me much meditation fodder. I recently came across some thoughts that occurred to me last December, traveling to Milwaukee for one our events with a friend, which seem to perfectly express something that has been on my mind lately.

We were talking about why we like to travel slowly, on back roads. (Seriously. If we have time to ignore an interstate, we will stretch that three hour drive into seven, with many stops.) It seems to me that too many people ignore the journey. After all, the tractor crossing signs are not something you see on an interstate. We traveled through a cut that had recently been widened - the original toolmarks were still visible in many places, but the rock faces were a glorious, deep burnt orange - raw and new. Nothing like the smooth gray and green we usually see. In fact, the whole drive was beautiful - and an integral part of the weekend. The trip was just as much a part of the event as the actual event.

Oh, sometimes time is a constraint. When work or other obligations aren't flexible, the quickest direct route is often necessary. Sometimes you're racing a tornado home (ooh - that could be a fun video game idea!). Sometimes there's an illness or injury or other pressing reason why you just need to get to where you're going. But not always.

Sometimes crappy and annoying things happen, and they ruin an entire trip because they slow us down, or make us work a little more. But not always. And what if those annoyances and delays and irritations have something to offer us?

I really feel that we, as a society, tend to discount or outright dislike travel. Oh, it's important, and we have to do it, but it doesn't really count. How much of our lives do we brush aside because we were "just" getting ready for work, or going out, or the next big thing? How much time do we trivialize because we were "only" en route? And then, once we're at a destination, or into the big thing, how much of it do we really experience? So often the end result is all we value.

Why does the travelling, the process of getting there, get such a bad rap? Couldn't (indeed, shouldn't) the moment be sufficient unto itself? How can I live my life in a way that gives value to each experience for its own sake? Each moment is a gift of the Divine, given to me once. Surely it is the height (depth?) of ingratitude to rush through something because it's nothing but a stepping stone to something else. The essence of mindfulness, in my understanding, is to treat each moment as a numinous, sacred ritual - a prayer in its entirety.

What if one enters what one is doing for its own sake?


What if the journey is as important (or sometimes more important) than the destination?

What if the point of the drive is the drive?

What kind of difference could that make to us?