To Journey, Or To Already Have Travelled?

What is it about human nature that stirs us in the ways it does? Millions die each day from poverty inflicted upon them by Western civilisation. But no sooner than a (admittedly terrible) act of nature swoops down they empty their pockets in the direction of the afflicted. What is it that makes man question whether God exists before questioning whether he exists himself? Why do people talk of anarchy, revolution and the evils in the West... yet we remain seeped in the familiarity of Capitalism and Pseudo-Democracy? What is it that makes us seek love so fervently and yet end up embittered or bored when we reach it. What do we love in life? The journey or the finish line? You set out on the journey of life, with aspirations and dreams. You want the average life with the average wife (or indeed husband) and yet at the same time you aspire to be greater, to be above your peers. Freud would have a field day with most of you reading this. But whether he would be right or not is another matter. You see, a short attention span is almost inherent. We love the thrill of the chase - working our way through an industry's many occupations, dating a potential girl/boyfriend and feeling the high of dopamine working its way through your system, even going shopping. It's all in the build-up, the preceding moments. Once the event occurs, and afterwards, what is there? The feeling of achievement, perhaps. But at the same time the feeling of loss. Not only has the objectives disappeared, but so has the goal. It is done. Over. Certainly, another line in the book of your life. But now all you are faced with is an otherwise empty page. What now? Retraining and new goals? Divorce and new directions? In most people's cases - yes. You leave the company. You get bored and leave your girlfriend. You use a product once and then dispense with it. What am I trying to say with this article? I'm almost asking myself the question as I write it. I am tiptoeing around the inevitable end, for it must have one, but I do not wish to finish it. I can feel the hormones gushing through me as my creativity sparks and sends my writing off in different directions. But I know that when I conclude my article I will press publish and it will sit, happy and content in its own compartment of cyberspace but otherwise unnoticed. Few will read it. Fewer will take its contents on board. Is that a reflection on my skill of writing, or simply a mark of their attention span themselves? Why have I written this? I suppose it is partly to ask the questions I have. I suppose it is also partly to (hopefully) stir someone's mind. Perhaps I am just passing time, waiting for the next challenge. Last year I entered NaNoWriMo. I love fiction-writing, and it was a great challenge. But it was such a great goal, and achievement that now I feel that writing at any other time is not worth it. So I sit here, typing away, waiting for November. Perhaps it is sad. Or perhaps, like a friend told me the other day, perhaps I think about these things too much. Either way, the end is here now. Another goal achieved. Will you dwell upon what you have done? Aristotle always thought that to reach the end of the journey was best. Or will you, like the rest of humanity before us, move onto the next goal, the next love, the next page. And then what? I suppose what I want you to ask yourself is: When are you going to stop? Either way, I'm off to conquer Zululand now. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.