Two old friends, John and Frederick sat on a bench in the park, watching clouds drift by, pondering life.

“I wish to finally arrive,” John sighed.

Frederick nodded thoughtfully, then after a pause, replied, “Isn’t arriving akin to dying?”

John looked at his friend, puzzled.

Frederick pondered, “Our journey is life itself, and when we arrive, the journey ends.”

“What I meant was that I’m weary of not knowing, of endless change,” John countered. 🐛

“Consider this,” Frederick offered, “the true goal may be insight, not a destination. To arrive could mean to embrace each moment, to dwell, even thrive in the uncertain.” 🦋

The two friends became silent. John’s lifelong quest for a definitive ‘arrival’ seemed to dissolve. Frederick’s insight sparked a revelation within him.

“I see,” John conceded. “Arrival is less about a finality and more about inner peace, about accepting life’s openness.” 🤲🏼

As dusk fell, they discovered a new essence of arrival – not as life’s finale, but as a celebration of the journey, with all its knowns and unknowns. ✨