Sometimes, life’s toughest question can also be the smallest. For example, WHY? The degree to which we have answers for life’s ‘Why’ question(s) can be the degree to which we have control over our life and things happening to and in our life.
Whenever I walk down this lane of thoughts, two words which I come across more often than not are, ‘Reason’ and ‘Purpose’. While some times they seem same, they are really not. While some times they seem different, they really are not. Some times we do stuff without knowing the reason and other times we do stuff not knowing the purpose. And few other times things happen with or to us, for which we neither know the purpose nor the reason.
For example, when I was born, I neither knew the reason I was born (of course I am not talking about the result of biological and chemical reasons here) nor the purpose. Neither did I know the purpose I was born to accomplish nor the reason why I and only I was supposed to accomplish those. Some are fortunate to get the answers to get this question and mend their life before it’s too late, whereas for few other unfortunate ones, by the time they figure it out, they are too old and tattered and it’s almost time to die.
It gets particularly complicated as in real life we seldom walk the walk of our life alone. We walk with people having their own purpose and reason. Recently on one such path, while I was walking with someone close to me, I was stopped and asked as to ‘WHY’ were we taking this path? I did not know if the answer to this question lay behind us in the reason we chose to take this path or was the answer to this question laid ahead of us which was the purpose we was taking this path to accomplish. What seemed like a good reason when we started on this road had turned out to be worst possible purpose we were going heading towards at the end of the same road.
Started the journey holding hands just not to get lost in the crowd who were heading on this same journey. Down the lane, hands were being held to stop the each other’s fall. At times it used to feel so nice to see how the hands fit perfectly. At times it used to feel so secure to know there was at least one hand holding us and guiding us through the journey. At not so pleasant times, it used to feel the grip was too tight and suffocating to be free to do anything else but walk the journey. Sometimes I was leading and other times being led. Sometimes I was being pulled to continue the journey and other times I used to pull. Sometimes I used to hold the hand tight against the storm and other times I was held that tight.
They say life’s beauty is in the journey and not the destination. May be that’s why I figured out that at the end of the journey that the final purpose of having made the journey, for whatever was the reason was, was to hand over the hand I had held this long, to someone else’s hand. Doing so, I had just handed over all the beauty of the journey at the destination.
Was I was just a delivery boy. May be I was just meant to bring the other person safely. Had I taken a wrong route and so I had to handover what I had brought with me to be taken to the correct destination. Who is right, what is right, whom to ask or what to ask, I know none.
And when journeys reach wrong destinations (at least from other’s point of view) people who aren’t that understanding make the destination they have reached as the final one. While few of us who are understanding and sensitive to other’s point of view, give up and start the journey all over again. However this time, with or without a hand to hold. Because,
‘Journeys don't stop, Destinations do’.
Whenever I walk down this lane of thoughts, two words which I come across more often than not are, ‘Reason’ and ‘Purpose’. While some times they seem same, they are really not. While some times they seem different, they really are not. Some times we do stuff without knowing the reason and other times we do stuff not knowing the purpose. And few other times things happen with or to us, for which we neither know the purpose nor the reason.
For example, when I was born, I neither knew the reason I was born (of course I am not talking about the result of biological and chemical reasons here) nor the purpose. Neither did I know the purpose I was born to accomplish nor the reason why I and only I was supposed to accomplish those. Some are fortunate to get the answers to get this question and mend their life before it’s too late, whereas for few other unfortunate ones, by the time they figure it out, they are too old and tattered and it’s almost time to die.
It gets particularly complicated as in real life we seldom walk the walk of our life alone. We walk with people having their own purpose and reason. Recently on one such path, while I was walking with someone close to me, I was stopped and asked as to ‘WHY’ were we taking this path? I did not know if the answer to this question lay behind us in the reason we chose to take this path or was the answer to this question laid ahead of us which was the purpose we was taking this path to accomplish. What seemed like a good reason when we started on this road had turned out to be worst possible purpose we were going heading towards at the end of the same road.
Started the journey holding hands just not to get lost in the crowd who were heading on this same journey. Down the lane, hands were being held to stop the each other’s fall. At times it used to feel so nice to see how the hands fit perfectly. At times it used to feel so secure to know there was at least one hand holding us and guiding us through the journey. At not so pleasant times, it used to feel the grip was too tight and suffocating to be free to do anything else but walk the journey. Sometimes I was leading and other times being led. Sometimes I was being pulled to continue the journey and other times I used to pull. Sometimes I used to hold the hand tight against the storm and other times I was held that tight.
They say life’s beauty is in the journey and not the destination. May be that’s why I figured out that at the end of the journey that the final purpose of having made the journey, for whatever was the reason was, was to hand over the hand I had held this long, to someone else’s hand. Doing so, I had just handed over all the beauty of the journey at the destination.
Was I was just a delivery boy. May be I was just meant to bring the other person safely. Had I taken a wrong route and so I had to handover what I had brought with me to be taken to the correct destination. Who is right, what is right, whom to ask or what to ask, I know none.
And when journeys reach wrong destinations (at least from other’s point of view) people who aren’t that understanding make the destination they have reached as the final one. While few of us who are understanding and sensitive to other’s point of view, give up and start the journey all over again. However this time, with or without a hand to hold. Because,
‘Journeys don't stop, Destinations do’.
