Somewhere over Turkey, the most beautiful sight graced mine eye. A rolling wave of rocky ridges, frosted on top by the whitest snow, stretching out in every direction for as far as I could see. Or imagine. Over head, jets crossed paths. Coming and going. Heading out and arriving home. Streaming cotton candy in their wake.
As I watched the world rotate underneath me, a strong force of conviction wag its all knowing finger in my face.
We can so easily get caught up in our thoughts, drowned by our worries, doubts, fears. We become blind to what’s in front of us.
So many people told me not to take this for granted. To make the most of everything. And there I had been, complaining about the journey and feeling disheartened about the possibilities to come. The excitement was gone. The fear had set in. I was blind.
It really isn’t about the destination. It really isn’t. Your destination may be your driving force, by don’t rush the drive. Don’t rush the process. It really is about the journey.
And who knows what you might find.