It's not the goal, it's the journey. Steady wins the race. These days I yearn for steady and continue to chase a seemingly elusive goal. A goal of fog and mirror. Minefields of wants and needs. It's not that I do not have goals, I have them and confront them daily with determination. It's just that my goals are of the heart. Emotion before fact. My goals are lofty, they float over the horizon. Taunt and plead. Of ego and fear.
I have a romantic default setting that steers my desires. Counters my rational fact-needing self. That trips me up, picks me up and dusts me off. Self be damned, I live for this. For me, this is what life is, this is what goals are made of. The golden grail. The end all, be all.
Life for me is beyond myself. As life is huge. Or seems as such from my perspective. Speck amongst the stars. Boy Scout in the woods. Determined survivalist.
There is a bigger picture here. Albeit blurred, I know its outlines as I envision it daily. Create it in my dreams and write it down in words. Its shine is familiar enough to find in the dark, warm enough to desire it and far enough to frustrate. But steady wins the race no matter how unclear the path. Or so it seems. So they say.
If I were to define my goal, I'd pin it to the future positive. Vague as it may be, this is what I call it. How I paint it in my mind and trace it in my everyday. This is my goal and my journey. My steady race, push and pull.
This is what I live for. My breath in frozen air, seeing what I feel. Being led by emotion, pulled by determination and fed by facts. This is my living. Mine to rescue and to give. To write it down, build it up and paint it. To set it forward, floating above the horizon line.