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The station

Tucked in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent.

We are traveling by train. Out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways,

of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside.

But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day at a >certain hour we will pull into the station. Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we get there, so many wonderful dreams will come

true and the pieces of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly we pace

the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering - waiting, waiting, waiting for the station.

"When we reach the station, that will be it!" We cry:

"When Iím 18,"

"When I buy that new 560 SL Mercedes Benz,"

"When I put the last kid through college,"

"When I have paid off the mortgage,"

"When I get a promotion,"

"When I reach the age of retirement, I shall live happily ever after."

Sooner or later we must realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all.

The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream.

"Relish the moment" is a good motto ... it isnít the burdens of today that drive men mad.

It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.

So, stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains...go barefoot more often,

swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go along.

The station will come soon enough.