#316: Arriving At The Same, New Destination
My parents still live in the same house where I grew up, in suburban utopia. Since moving out years ago, I've been back to visit at least a couple times each year. It's given me the chance to revisit so many places I knew while growing up. And while some new things have been built, or parts have shifted, I think it's mostly me who's changed. Rob's piece here reminds me of the power of this kind of perspective.
- C
Arriving At The Same, New Destination
One of my favorite places in the world is Big Sur California. I’ve lived in Los Angeles for 35 years now – and my wife and I have made it a habit to get up to Big Sur at least once a year.
Now, of course, because of the pandemic, we hadn’t returned since 2019. Has it really been three years? Yup. It has.
So – we recently made a trip to Big Sur, and I took the opportunity to bring along a copy of one of my favorite books: Henry Miller’s Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch. It’s basically a memoir about his time in the California location he loved as much as I do.
In the book, there’s a delightful passage where Miller discusses the idea of how changing the way you look at a place to which you are arriving, ironically grounds us. He says “if we are always arriving and departing, it is also true we are eternally anchored. One’s destination is never a place, but rather a new way of looking at things.”
I love that.
Basically, Miller is suggesting that we can use our arrival to any destination – even one with which we think we have intimate familiarity – as a new lens to see life.
I take that to mean not just traveling to some exotic place, or trusty vacation spot, but even using that idea to see paths to a grocery store, or checking the mail in a new way.
In a way this is absolutely a state of mindfulness, and I’ve started trying to practice this idea. When I arrive somewhere, I acknowledge that I’ve departed somewhere and my arrival is new. What can I see in a new way?
My experience is that sometimes the most banal destinations can reveal extraordinary insights if we just choose to look through a new lens.
For example, one day last month was one of the hottest days I can remember here in Los Angeles. I’ve been trying to walk every day, and this was a day I could have easily skipped. It was also a day I could have put on my headphones, turned on a podcast, and mindlessly done my five kilometers staring at the dirt trail ahead of me. Instead, I decided that when I arrived at the place I normally turn around, I would arrive. I acknowledged my departure, and I looked around and noticed a trail that I’d never seen before. I’m sure it’s been there for years, but I’d never noticed it before.
I took it.
It brought me right back to where I started my walk – but along this new way, as I heard the birds singing, and the rocks crunching under my feet I had this realization that I really needed to recalibrate my work life. I saw my work through an entirely different lens.
Was it because of where I was walking? I don’t know and don’t care. All I know is that Miller was right. By treating my arrival to a place as a new way to look at things instead of just a return to familiar pleasance and a place to turn around, I discovered wonderful new things.