A Means to An End

A means to an end, or making the means the end?

I’ve indulged in strange behaviours over the years.  For example, I’d often skip breakfast so that I could be at a meeting 100 miles away early instead of merely on time.  It was amazing how often so many other people would then turn up late (you know, the ones that lived around the corner!)

I conned myself that I was being ‘professional’, that sacrificing those precious moments needed for a breakfast, a good coffee, or even a shower was a “means to an end”.

Well, I mean to make an end of that!

This week, I’ve put breakfast higher on the agenda.  I’ve put taking photographs early in the morning higher on the agenda.  I’ve put ‘moments’ higher on the agenda.  And I’ve taken pleasure in ‘necessities’.

I am often childish (embarrassing at 53) but occasionally I stray into being ‘Child-like’.  When child-like I regain my sense of wonder.  In these moments I love the simplicity and luxury of the shower.  I say, “Hello!” to the daffodils who have remained steadfast through the storms.  I even greet my favourite trees.  I talk to my fish.  And I’m happier for it.

As I grow increasingly unattracted to the later part of my life (the end) I see a need to enjoy the means as the end.  The ritual of making a ‘posh’ coffee becomes an end in itself.  Buying unsliced bread so that I can cut it myself and enjoy the process – this becomes an end in itself.  Deliberately walking to the shop so that I can see how the Spring flowers are faring in neighbours’ gardens – an enjoyable end in itself.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that others have said more eloquently before: I need to enjoy the journey… step by step… moment by moment… simple wonder by enchanting wonder…

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