By Robert J. Hastings
TUCKED AWAY in our subconscious minds is an idyllic vision in which we see ourselves on a long journey that spans an entire continent.
We’re traveling by train and, from the windows, we drink in the passing scenes of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at crossings, of cattle grazing in distant pastures, of smoke pouring from power plants, of row upon row upon row of cotton and corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of city skylines and village halls.
But uppermost in our conscious minds is our final destination–for at a certain hour and on a given day, our train will finally pull into the Station with bells ringing, flags waving, and bands playing. And once that day comes, so many wonderful dreams will come true.
So restlessly, we pace the aisles and count the miles, peering ahead, waiting, waiting, waiting for the Station.”Yes, when we reach the Station, that will be it!” we promise ourselves. “When we’re eighteen. . . win that promotion. . . put the last kid through college. . . buy that 450SL Mercedes-Benz. . . have a nest egg for retirement!”From that day on we will all live happily ever after.Sooner or later, however, we must realize there is no Station in this life, no one earthly place to arrive at once and for all.
The journey is the joy.
The Station is an illusion–it constantly outdistances us.
Yesterday’s a memory, tomorrow’s a dream. Yesterday belongs to a history, tomorrow belongs to God. Yesterday’s a fading sunset, tomorrow’s a faint sunrise.
Only today is there light enough to love and live.So, gently close the door on yesterday and throw the key away.
It isn’t the burdens of today that drive men mad, but rather the regret over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who would rob us of today.”Relish the moment” is a good motto, especially when coupled
So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, swim more rivers, climb more mountains, kiss more babies, count more stars. Laugh more and cry less. Go barefoot oftener. Eat more ice cream. Ride more merry-go-rounds. Watch more sunsets. Life must be lived as we go along.
The Station will come soon enough.
I believe everyone needs to read The Station by Robert J Hastings and really take it to heart. Mr. Hastings wish was for everyone to realize that the the true joy to life is finding joy in the journey.
If this poem has touched you – I’d love to hear from you!