The Station

My book The Power of Pause has been released on audio. And, there is an audio book excerpt and garden slideshow on my YouTube Channel.

In my Sabbath Moment this past Monday, I quoted a piece (by Robert Hastings) called “The Station.” Years ago, I used it when I lectured, but have been recently reintroduced. And it still resonates.

One reader pointed out a serendipitous typo. Where it should say, “bands will be playing,” I had typed “banks will be playing.” Were that the case. . .

I needed to do some banking business on the phone today. I waited on hold, for 30 minutes, listening to what only a true masochist could call music. I kept waiting for the prompt that said, “If this music has driven you to despair, press 7.” “If you would like to relinquish all your money, in order to quit listening to this music, press 8.” “If you are no longer certain what you called about, press 9.” Even so, I had to laugh, thinking about our need to “arrive” at the station (you know, any place where “life begins”), joyfully greeted by the banks playing. . .

Oh well. . .anything to help when you are on hold. . .

Here’s the piece. . .(without the typo. . .I hope). . .Enjoy. . .

Tucked away 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 window we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, or city skylines and village halls.

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 I’m 18.” “When I buy a new 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. It constantly outdistances us.

It isn’t 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, eat more ice cream, 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.