The journey

please view this video of the poem 'Ithaca' by C. Kavafis, recited by Sean Connery, before you read the rest of the post..



It may be a terrible cliche, but I must agree with it: life is a journey. But it is a journey through time and space to a destination we don't know, and don't even know if it exists. Maybe upon reaching the destination we are immediately sent on the next journey, nobody knows. The opinions, which can be believed but not acknowledged with certainty, diverge widely.
Some say they know the path to this destination.
Some say, any path except the one they propose leads to eternal damnation.
All they provide is hope and consolation, the rest is a pretentious delusion until somebody proves otherwise, as nobody returned from "Ithaca".

Some choose their own path, and for others the path is chosen. Some travel down a straight line to their destination, at the highest possible speed, only to realize they missed the sightseeing along the way to a boring or even painful end. Others go slowly, taking their time, making detours and enjoying the wayside.

Some tread only on treaded paths, over flat land, to minimize their effort and maximize their comfort. Others go the rough way, off the beaten path, to see things that are seen only by those who care to look further than others. They climb high peaks, from which they can look down on everything. Maybe not as high as Wittgenstein or Einstein, but still a peak from which one can have a view on the toils of humanity. They don't trust on reaching the peak at the end of our life, but try to climb as many peaks as they can during their journey, cross wild rivers and crawl through the underwood. They make the journey to be their goal, as a purpose of itself: the road to the final end becomes a final end itself.

All we know is that it's ours, and so are the decisions on how to experience it. It is what it is, but it's also there, forever, in a different dimension to which you can't return. You can't imagine the journey without you, from a point beyond the destination, but you can see it as being always with you. On your journey you can have everything you dare to reach out for, and what you grasp with your mind will always be there for you. Life can be cruel and take away everything, but not the memories of the past travels. It is etched into (your) history, and the traces you leave can be a guide to others. So make your journey well, it is your task and a duty to yourself to make the most of it, as for all you know it is your last journey. You don't know if Ithaca exists and whether it's a nice place or a terrible one, whether somebody will open a hospitable door or send you further. Maybe if you finally reach Ithaca, there will be someone waiting there to hear your story, but imagine you have nothing to tell them? And if it is merely a delusion, a Fatah Morgana, at least the journey towards it deserves to be an exciting one.