Are you Ever Meant to Arrive?
Balearic Islands
A friend who had reached his goal of paying off a bungalow worth several million once told me he felt surprisingly let down by the effect. He described it as a balloon with the air let out—his motivation evaporating the moment he scored.
I felt similar after completing my first marathon—questioning why I should carry on running at all.
What about that subtle backlash of a declared finish line?
Do you underestimate the valley that follows a peak?
What if the anticipation of a goal is more powerful than achieving it?
The output changes the equation.
A shift in energy.
A shift in gravity.
It might explain why many highly successful people can’t stop, even though they could slow down. Why countless athletes or artists whose success seems to come overnight after decades of practice out of the limelight, spiral into disorientation when the declared ends have been met.
How much is enough?
What happens after the summit?
In hiking the answer is blunt. Going up mountains for decades taught me that reaching the top is only being halfway there. Most accidents I´ve been witness to and had myself have happened on the way down, when focus slips, as fatigue sets in.
I’ve admittedly struggled to surrender when weather forced us to turn back with the summit already in view.
It’s where going forward starts to mean turning back.
Surrendering.
Honoring limitations without losing motivation.
Maintaining motivation depends on pacing yourself to refuel along the way.
It’s about moving with the momentum to diminish friction—efficiently using energy rather than burning through the reserves needed to return to base.
Staying curious.
My dad once pointed out that “You should wonder until the last day of your life.”
After arriving in Germany from the United States sixty years ago on a scholarship, his goal became a stepping stone toward a life in uncharted territory. Seizing the opportunity, he has remained in Europe ever since, navigating his days with the ongoing routine of a musician—continuously exploring while never declaring arrival.
In his late eighties, he has not tired of discovering the world of music, self-propelling momentum - be it listening to or collaborating with other artists or his students.
I largely credit that refusal to retire for his recovery from weeks in an induced coma due to multi-organ failure at 84, despite the prognosis that he wouldn’t make it.
Not striving to settle is a powerful energy. A violin that isn’t played regularly goes out of tune fast.
The process defines the outcome.
Releasing the idea that you arrive first, then start living.
Risking living fully where you are, without external reassurance.
Exploration over security.
Motion over arrival.
Rhythm over settlement.
Contact with life over temporary security.
The Norwegian explorer, publisher, lawyer, and art collector Erling Kagge stated that we are born explorers, noting that exploration isn’t something we start doing, but something we gradually stop doing.
As a child, we venture out unconcerned about the consequences. Our quest for predictability trades the horizon for a fence - dulling that adventurous spirit.
Growing up threatens to dissolve the joy of the journey as you get fixed on specific outcomes – often defined before you’ve tested anything.
What if countless roads can get the job done?
What if it’s not as important where you’re going, but how you move?
Following the energy over pre-set paths.
Questioning the relevance of the destination.
Taking the scenic route.
What if it’s about the people we share the journey with?
I can easily recall the camaraderie built with others on a hike while the memory of the summit itself fades surprisingly fast.
Maybe it’s about reframing a goal as a milestone—maintaining momentum by releasing your grip on the ETA.