There it is. The end of the rainbow, the wind in the sail and the perfectly timed sunset and it was better off as a construct. Apologize for the ocean metaphors but I type this at one. Not that that matters all that much but it does beat the desert at least when the sun is out. Each moment, like all of us, are like a word in a novel or an image on a filmstrip, hard to read but in its own light and in the right reference it is everything. Or nothing. For if you are sad or happy on a boat, then a wheelbarrow will not much matter. The picture changes, but ask anyone reaching the end and they will tell you that that is only one part and that it does not last and it was all about the chase and so on. 

Once again the journey. A collection of moments that are greater than its sum parts. Hence we never should aim at one point but in a direction. People have many dreams, the problem usually rises when it comes true. When the wind comes and pulls the boat at unbearable speeds, or when the cloud gets in the way of the sun, if only to bring about drama, but wrecking that moment none the less. It was all about the lead up to it, the anticipation of the unknown. 

It is so individualistic, so meaningful to so many.  To the ones who are holding the trophy, catching the wave or scoring the goal, for them it matters so much. For the ones nearby, it is all noise. Distractions in our own games of status and chase. We need our own games to participate no matter where we are on the board. A function of something in comparison with something else, a weight to counter balance the other side, an object for which to compare the others.