It was another quiet Sunday evening. I was sitting with myself, allowing my thoughts to flow freely without pushing them in any particular direction. Nothing unusual had happened that day, yet a simple question came to my mind: what is speed in life?
At first, I tried to understand speed in the way we usually understand it. Moving ahead quickly, doing more work in less time, reaching somewhere before others, becoming successful early, or trying to make up for lost time. Then another question entered my mind: what is direction in life? After direction came the thought of a destination, and after destination came the question of taking the first step.
But suddenly, I felt that perhaps the journey of life begins much before the first step.
A newborn baby cannot walk. The baby does not even know that there is a world beyond the arms holding him. He has no goal, no plan, no desire, no objective, and no destination. Still, from the moment he is born, he begins moving away from the point where his life started.
Every hour takes him forward. Every morning carries him a little farther from his first day. He makes no effort to move, yet he continues moving. He may sleep peacefully in his cradle, but time does not sit beside him and sleep.
Then an image appeared in my mind.
Suppose life is a straight line of a certain length, and a small dot appears at one end of that line. The moment the dot appears, it starts moving towards the other end. It does not know how long the line is. It cannot see the other end. It does not know how much distance it has to cover or how much time it has.
Still, the dot continues moving.
I began remembering my childhood. When I was around four or five years old, I tried to avoid going to school. I had no interest in leaving home and sitting in a classroom. Education was not my goal. I did not understand why I had to go to school, what a degree meant, or how education could shape my future.
Going to school felt like something being imposed upon me.
Still, I went. One class was followed by another. One examination was followed by the next. I studied without any clear goal, objective, or destination. Slowly, school became college, and my education continued until I completed my post-graduation.
Today, when I look back, I sometimes wonder whether I was really moving towards post-graduation or simply completing the next class and the next examination that appeared before me. Perhaps the journey did not begin with a great dream. Perhaps the journey began first, and I understood its meaning much later.
As life moved forward, I also began setting goals. Some were small and related to everyday life. Some were important. Some came from responsibilities, some from necessity, and some from the desire to do something good and meaningful.
I worked towards those goals. Some were achieved, and I felt successful. Some remained unfulfilled, even though my effort had been sincere. Some achievements gave me confidence. Some failures caused pain. Many times, the success I had strongly desired did not bring as much happiness as I had expected. At other times, something that looked like failure quietly turned my life in another direction.
I also made many decisions in life.
Some decisions felt right and brought peace to my mind. Some gave me the results I had hoped for. Some seemed correct at that time, but later I felt that perhaps I should have chosen another path. Sometimes I trusted my judgement, and sometimes I asked myself whether I had made the right choice.
But through every success, every failure, every right decision, and every inappropriate decision, one thing always remained the same.
The dot continued moving.
It did not stop after an achievement and say, “Now you have arrived.”
It did not stop after a failure and say, “Now your journey is over.”
It passed through both.
This thought slowly began to change the way I looked at life. We often treat our goals as destinations. We believe that after completing our education, finding work, building a home, fulfilling family responsibilities, gaining recognition, or achieving financial security, we will finally reach somewhere.
But whenever we reach such a point, life continues moving.
School ends, and another phase begins. A degree is completed, and work begins. A professional goal is achieved, and new responsibilities appear. Children grow up, but our concern for them does not end. One book is completed, and another thought begins to take shape in the mind.
After some time, every destination becomes only another point left behind.
Goals may be necessary. They give direction to our efforts. They help organise one part of life. They encourage us to learn, work hard, improve ourselves, and move forward with discipline.
But goals are not life itself.
A goal may be achieved or may remain incomplete. A plan may succeed or fail. A decision may prove right or wrong. But life does not stop and wait for the result.
This understanding made me a little restless, but it also gave me great peace.
I felt restless because I realised that I could not stop this movement. I could not move backwards on the line. I could visit my old school, remember my childhood, look at old photographs, and think about the people who once walked beside me. But I could not become that child again.
Memories can travel backwards. Life cannot.
I felt peaceful because the burden of making every step perfect became lighter. Life had never asked me to win every time, never make a mistake, or achieve every goal. It had only given me a limited journey in which I had to learn, work, love, lose, rise again, understand, and continue moving.
Then another thought came to me.
Perhaps there is no need to search for one destination in life.
The second point of the line already exists, even though the moving dot cannot see it. The dot will continue moving towards it whether it walks or rests, succeeds or fails, makes a complete plan or remains confused.
The destinations we see may only be temporary stops created by the mind. They may help us for some distance, but they cannot become the complete meaning of life.
This does not mean that we should stop making plans or become careless. It does not mean that effort, responsibility, desire, or achievement have no value. It simply means that we should not postpone living until the day we reach some destination.
Life is not waiting for us at the next destination.
It is present in an ordinary morning. It is present in a busy clinic. It is present in a small conversation at home. It is present in a page written quietly. It is present in a meal shared with family. It is present in honestly accepting a mistake. It is present in sitting silently for a while after a tiring day.
Life is present in achieving a goal and also in failing to achieve it.
It is present in a correct decision and also in the lesson left behind by a wrong one.
It is present while the dot is moving.
Perhaps I spent many years of my life asking where I was going. I kept searching for direction, goals, milestones, and destinations. All of them had their own importance, but none of them was the complete journey.
Even while I was searching for the journey, the journey was already continuing.
The child who tried to avoid going to school was living it. The student who studied without a clear goal was living it. The young doctor surrounded by responsibilities was living it. The man who achieved some goals and lost others was also living the same journey.
Even on this Sunday evening, while I sat quietly thinking about all this, the dot was still moving.
Now I feel less need to ask again and again, “Where must I finally reach?”
A quieter question has taken its place:
“How should I live while I am still moving?”
Perhaps I should work honestly, but I should not measure my whole life only through achievements. Perhaps I should make thoughtful decisions, but when a decision proves wrong, I should also forgive myself. Perhaps I should fulfil my responsibilities, but I should not allow worry to take control of the entire journey.
Perhaps I should write what feels important from within. I should care for the people who are walking beside me for some part of the journey. I should notice the ordinary moments that will never return once they have passed.
The dot cannot stop.
It cannot move backwards.
It does not know how much of the line is still left.
But while it continues moving, it can leave a little warmth at the places through which it passes.
Today, I feel that perhaps this is enough.
No destination now.