Turning
Old Clichés into New Maxims:
Keep Your Nose to the
Grindstone
By Richard Eyre
Note: This column appears every
two weeks … with an old cliché replaced by a new maxim each
time. Click here to read the full introductory column.
Get
it done! Don’t stop! Get it over with! No interruptions! Get
on to the next thing. Don’t be distracted! Keep your eye on
the ball! Keep your nose to the grindstone!
Ugh!
What are you ever going to experience with your nose pressed
us against that old stone? We drive ourselves to work hard,
and in the process we drive ourselves crazy and we drive past
the joys and beauties too fast to really see them.
If
we keep grinding away, where will it get us? Will we “get there”?
To some mythical destination? To someplace
that is better than where we are now? To the other side of the
fence where the grass is greener?
To
those who believe in a hereafter ― in an eternity (and
surveys show that 95 percent of us do) ― where is
there? Surely there is not some terminal, final destination,
someplace where progress stops, where we stagnate and cannot
ever go beyond.
If
there is no full stop, no final end, if there’s no quitting
point or ultimate destination, then perhaps all of life (this
one and beyond) should be thought of not as a preface to something
else, not as just the means to some other end, but as a long,
even, unending journey where the point is not to finish
or to arrive but to keep growing and progressing and the goal
is not to finally get there but to find joy all along
the way.
*
I couldn’t help noticing how opposite
the two weekends were and how opposite their effects were on
me. One weekend, keeping my nose to the grindstone, I went to
a distant city, got some business done, and came home. The first
weekend I rode on jets because that was the fastest, most direct
way to get exactly where I wanted to go. The second weekend
we had no idea where we were going, because the wind and the
air currents didn’t tell us in advance.
The first weekend what I noticed was
that the plane was late, my luggage was slow, and the meetings
took longer than they should have. The second weekend I noticed
the infinite loveliness of moving clouds, the patchwork quilt
of the earth’s fields and forests; the joy and company of my
two fellow travelers, and a thousand other things.
The overriding purpose of the first
weekend trip was to get somewhere and get the job done. The
reason for the second weekend’s trip was to enjoy the journey.
*
Jets versus hot-air balloons; fast noisy snowmobiles versus slow, quiet
cross-country skis; motorboats versus sailboats; Zig
Zigler versus Thoreau.
Travel
metaphors abound: the time snow closed the airport and we had
to take the train over the Rockies from Salt Lake City to Denver ― thirteen hours of exquisite,
slow beauty instead of sixty-five minutes of fast boredom.
But
real experience tells it better: Taking time to make
a friend, taking time to notice, to enjoy, to smell roses
and watch sunsets, taking time instead of using
time to get there.
The
new maxim for this column is completely obvious and not very
new, but it’s worth repeating:
ENJOY
THE JOURNEY
There
is a phenomenon that’s hard to explain through logic or by cause-and-effect.
When we think more about the joy of the journey and less about
the pressure of the destination, we get pretty much where we
wanted to go anyway, and we arrive rested and relaxed.
Join
us in two weeks, when the next column will go head to head with
the traditional wisdom that says there’s a time and a place for
everything.
