It was US President John F. Kennedy in 1961 who first announced that America would send men to the moon. In July 1969, three astronauts blasted off into space: Neil Armstrong, (who sadly died recently), Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin, (former second lieutenant and Rhodes scholar) and Michael Collins. The landing of Apollo 11 on the moon had a profound impact on human psyche; the last frontier was at last within our grasp. Humans could now travel further, and at greater speed, than in any other time in the history of humankind.
Maybe it’s because of Aldrin’s travel into outer space that has put his perspective on life, in a much longer time frame and in a bigger picture. His views on the world, our thirst for knowledge and time, are insightful. So why are we in so much of a hurry these days? Why don’t we enjoy the journey as much as the destination?
“Are we there yet?” still echoes in my mind, as we travelled with our children on long road trips. Any attempts to distract them with cows, mountains, books or signs failed miserably. If you have been on a road trip to north Queensland recently, you may have noticed some funny road signs, that a council worker with a great sense of humour , has had erected along a particularly boring stretch of highway that read, “Are we there Yet?”, and twenty kilometres further, “Nearly there Kids.”
It seems that when we are very young, time stretches on for eternity and no more so than when trapped in a car hurtling towards some unknown destination. What is it though that makes us want to be in such a hurry? Is it in our DNA to be so impatient? Why is it that we want to ‘be there’ now, rather than in two weeks time or an hour? What’s our big hurry?
When we’re young, we’re in a hurry to grow up, to learn to drive, to get a car, to leave home and become more independent. (Though latest observations show that young people are living at home well into their thirties now, but that’s another story.) Time is relative, isn’t it? Well ‘yes’ according to Einstein, yet it doesn’t take a genius, to figure out that a month as a proportion of your life as a five year old is way larger than that of a thirty year old.
As we grow older, we realise that time is not infinite. Indeed, time seems to speed up. We realise too, that we still have so much to learn about people, places and life. Even though each of us has been on a long personal journey, we are still learning about life and we are still learning about wisdom. Life throws at us, lots of ‘curved balls’, obstacles, challenges as well as good helpings of happiness and heartache along the way. The ‘getting of wisdom’ is not a simple or easy thing. As French author, Marcel Proust, wrote:
“We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.”
Like the chrysalis that must fight its way out of its cocoon, to be transformed into a beautiful butterfly, it seems too, that we humans must fight our own way out of the cocoon of protection that our family provides for us as children. Either speeding the process up or down is not necessarily a good thing. Nor will the outcome be better for our children if we ‘hover and intervene’ on their behalf for too long. Like the caterpillar that shrivels and dies, if it is pulled out of its cocoon without doing the battle itself, so too will our children lack the resilience and the independence to prosper along the journey of life, if we act too hastily to intervene by trying to protect our children from life’s lessons. Where is the wisdom learnt?
“There is such a thing as communication time of travel” (Buzz Aldrin)
What would the world be like if President John F. Kennedy had lived? What would a person’s life be like if they had not lived through a personal tragedy? These imponderable questions are the theme of Stephen King’s book, “11.22.63”. The plot centres on the possibilities of travelling back in time – to change the course of history to see what different outcomes may have resulted by an intervention by a person to prevent President Kennedy from being assassinated or to prevent a family tragedy.
Would the world be a better place? Would a person be happier for not having to live through a personal tragedy? Would they be a better person or a more successful person? Philosophically we can only speculate. We can’t say with any certainty whether the outcome would be better or worse and like the old Chinese proverb says, “Maybe so, Maybe not.”
There’s an underlying truth in the Greek philosopher Heraclitus’ observation from c.500BC, that:
“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.”
There it is. Even if we were to change the course of our own personal history (yes, we all have a few regrets and things that we wish we could change), there are no guarantees that the outcome would be better, or we would be happier or that life somehow would become magically more perfect. Perhaps this is why so many philosophers and poets write about the journey of life. Isn’t it really a question about how we view life’s journey and what our attitude is to what happens to us along the way that is more important than any ultimate destination?
Some adversity makes us stronger than we could ever imagine we could be. Some challenges make us more resilient and better able to cope with the ‘small speed bumps’ in life. Some tragedies can transform us into a better person than we might have been otherwise. Overcoming these challenges can motivate and inspire us to become the best we can be.
“The road of life twists and turns and no two directions are ever the same. Yet our lessons come from the journey, not the destination.”
(Don Williams Jr., American novelist and poet)
Life’s journey is never straightforward is it? Isn’t it in the twists and turns though that true wisdom is learned?
Karon Graham
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