The Spider In My Apron

The blue moon that arrived last week was my cue to clean my room. As I picked up my dirty work aprons to empty their pockets, a rather large and hairy brown spider scurried over my wad of cash. Reacting like the strong man that I am, I dropped the aprons in fright and surprise and watched the spider skitter around the floor of my room until deciding that behind my beloved 1970s drumset would be a good place to nest and reproduce its stupid small spider family. Coins bounced haphazardly across (ironically) our 1970s, hairy brown carpet; adrenaline pumping, it was natural for each shimmer to catch me off guard. In fact, I spent the next half an hour scanning my room for any form of movement at all; they could all be spiders, you know.

When we encounter things we are fearful of, don't we, in some way or another, seek the feared (or at least create patterns, even illusions of the feared), just so we're not surprised the next time we see it? Why does seeing the spider make me continue to look for it for half an hour, even after it's gone?

Guts

The common and inspirational quote "It's about the journey, not the destination" never rang as brightly or as true to my ears as it has to others.

"The moment of victory is much too short to live for that and nothing else."

-Martina Navratilova

Immediately, this made me think of music. A quick, yet intensely satisfying moment of gratification, that despite its greatness, dwindles and fades like anything else.

Well if its not about the destination, the victory, then what is it about? And why do I keep going when I have such a blurry foresight as to where I'll end up? I'm convinced the journey must have more substance than we credit it with, and we must realize and appreciate that substance sooner than in hindsight. Otherwise we just live blip to blip, like red pins on a big map.

What does Martina's quote make you think of? What do you think about the substance of your journey and its destination(s)?