Getting There Is All the Fun
The universe doesn’t care about your destination; it’s busy filming your wrong turns. A look at why the detours are the only parts the cosmic administrators actually record.
People talk about destinations as if they are grand revelations, but most of them are just rooms with chairs. You arrive, you sit, you wonder why you rushed. The universe watches this with the patient amusement of someone observing a cat sprint into a wall.
The truth is that all the interesting things happen on the way. The detours. The wrong turns. The moment you realise you have been following the wrong blue dot for twenty minutes. These are the parts the cosmic administrators actually record. They have a whole department dedicated to your accidental discoveries. They stamp forms every time you learn something you did not intend to learn.
What no one tells you is that the universe also sends out small inspectors to monitor your progress. They are about the size of a confused teapot and appear only when you are lost enough to be spiritually interesting. They take notes on clipboards made of recycled starlight and mutter things like “excellent character development” while you panic about missing a turn.
Meanwhile, the destination sits there doing absolutely nothing. It contributes no drama, no plot twists, no personal growth. It is a loaf of bread waiting to be sliced. You get there, look around, and immediately start planning the next thing. The universe sighs and resets the counters.
There was once a traveller who set out to reach the Mountain of Profound Answers. It was said that anyone who reached the summit would finally understand their purpose. Halfway there, the traveller met a goat blocking the path. The goat refused to move. The traveller argued. The goat remained unmoved. After an hour of negotiation, the traveller gave up and sat beside the goat in defeat.
While sitting there, the traveller noticed a beautiful view they had completely missed. They also discovered a berry bush, made a new friend who happened to be lost, and learned three valuable lessons about patience, snacks, and the stubbornness of goats. By the time the goat finally wandered off, the traveller realised they no longer cared about the mountain. They had already found their purpose: it was everything that happened while they were stuck.
The moral is simple. If a goat blocks your path, it is probably the universe trying to help.
So take your time. Wander a little. Let the day unfold like a cat deciding which room to judge you from. The destination will still be there, quietly unimpressive, waiting for you to realise that the real story was everything that happened before you showed up.
Getting there is all the fun. The rest is just chairs.
Harry is a satirist in remission who now moonlights as a metaphysical desk jockey. He specialises in cosmic admin, recursive nonsense, and the occasional algorithmic incident report. One poem he wrote still hasn’t stopped, and several readers claim it whispers back during thunderstorms.
