Imagine this:
You want to reach the top of Mount Everest.
Someone picks you up and places you at the top of Mount Everest. You did it. You've won.
But is that what you really want?
The climb is what you're after.
Climb Mount Everest to climb Mount Everest, not to reach the end.
Saying you're after the end point is like saying you live to die. That's not what you want.
You want the journey. The ups and downs. The joy and frustration of the climb itself.
I'll give you an example:
I once read a book called "The Slight Edge," which talked about how consistent, daily, small actions compound over time to achieve big things.
One of the things the book said was to read 10 pages of a book each day. 10 pages of a book every day = 300 pages a month = 1 book a month = 12 books a year = lots of knowledge and growth. That was the idea. It made sense on paper.
I implemented the book's suggestion. I started reading 10 pages of a book every day.
Very soon after, I lost the joy of reading.
I was not reading to read. I was reading to reach the end, to make it to the top, to say I had done it, as if I had accomplished something.
I found myself counting the pages as soon as I opened the book, wondering what my target was, mapping out the point where I could stop and check the box.
Reading became a chore. It felt like I was a slave to the outcome, that I was working for something outside of the activity itself.
Eventually, I stopped reading altogether. I couldn't do it anymore. I had to unchain myself.
I went 3-4 months before picking up a book again. From there, I read books not to say I had read, not to check a box, but to read. For the joy of reading itself.
Funny enough, I read almost everyday now. I don't have to read. I want to read.
The ones who excel the most at their craft are the ones who find and appreciate the joy in the craft itself.
They don't golf to shoot the lowest score. They golf to play the game of golf, and find joy in that play and the uncertainty of outcomes that comes with it.
They don't play poker to win a bunch of money. They play poker to play the game of poker, finding joy in the intricacies of each hand, the table dynamic, the mystery that it is to be seated at the table, playing the game.
Success is often branded around outcomes. But that would make success fleeting, because all outcomes are fleeting. They come and they go. You don't want fleeting success.
You want presence. A deep intimacy with the present moment. An unspeckled joy with the mystery of life, with it's Divine rollercoaster of a journey. Do you ride a rollercoaster to get off of it and say you did it? Or do you ride the rollercoaster to ride the rollercoaster?
Which sounds more fulfilling?
Ironically, those who play to play end up having the most success. Not because they perform well, but because they experience the most joy while playing.
The true joy of an activity is never outside of the activity itself. You will never find it from an outcome, which is why people reach their targeted net worth and go, "Now what?" They may experience a few moments of euphoria, a celebration, a fist pump, maybe even a trophy. But a few moments later, they're wondering, "What's for dinner?"
What are you doing in your life for the sake of an outcome? The outcome may be *part of* the journey, like reaching the top of Mount Everest is part of the climb, but you don't want to simply be placed at the top. You want the climb, and everything that comes with it.
The journey is never fleeting. It is always here and now. That's what you're looking for. Thankfully, it's already been given to you.
Play to play.
Mt Everest allegory is spot on. You wouldn't appreciate the top of Everest if you were placed there. All of the emotion, the profound sense of fulfillment, and the elation in the triumph is in the resilience and perseverance. When you reach the end, you only realize that physical, mental and/or spiritual journey is what transforms you, like alchemy, from the raw and unformed material into something cloaked in the glory of pursuing the ultimate transcendant divine.