Where You’re Standing Was Once the Goal
It’s a gloriously rainy Sunday afternoon, and I’m surrounded by sleeping animals. Our dog Maya is cuddled up next to me and my brother’s two cats- Rosie and Penny, are perched on the couch behind us.
After hours of booming fireworks last night (a practice I’m honestly very done with- I can’t imagine how it feels for folks with PTSD) this feels like the perfect antidote: the natural, calming sounds of rain on windows, Rosie’s meow as she jumps up to join us, Maya’s deep sleepy breathing.
Still tucked in after a looooong nap earlier (see: booming fireworks) I started scrolling Substack, and I came across a post that read:
Where you’re standing was once the goal.
Obviously, this is not the first time you are hearing this. I have no idea who first said it and am sure that a quick google search would lead me nowhere fast- but the point is this: whenever I come across this idea or something like it, it knocks me over.
Because it’s true, isn’t it?
Maybe it’s early retirement, or an educational milestone. Maybe it’s a great relationship or the release of one that didn’t fit. Maybe it’s being able to run a new-to-you distance or getting a clean bill of health.
Maybe it’s speaking up for yourself for the first time, being vulnerable with a new friend, sharing your story.
We are all (hopefully) moving toward and arriving at what used to be our wildest dreams! All the time! We are just out here doing it!
There were definitely several times during those 96 miles when I dreamed of arriving to this spot.
When I started applying for jobs in November of 2024, I bought a bottle of champagne and put it in the fridge with the label “new job.” In March 2025 we drank it together to celebrate landing my dream gig at Augustine Literacy Project.
When Ryan and I first hit our FIRE number, we celebrated with a dance around the kitchen (aka I danced and he retreated to higher ground).
After finishing a grueling day of hiking the West Highland Way in Scotland (hours of rain and scrambling over slippery boulders next to a lake- then waiting for a ferry to take us to our hotel… in the rain) I dug into a plate of fish and chips the size of Alaska and drank just about as much scotch.
I’ve done my best to mark important events and transitions, and to celebrate them along the way. But there is a crucial next step that often gets missed:
After the celebration, I almost instantly move on to the next dream.
Finished the hike? Great. Let’s start thinking about the next one.
Reached FI? Amazing. Let’s pop back into the spreadsheets for the millionth time to see what we can optimize for next.
Gotten your dream job? Super. Feel the weight lift off your shoulders and then get about the business of making a health or travel goal or maybe focus on building up your community a bit more?
We are always reaching, aren’t we? This feels like a deeply human thing- and I have no answers. But it’s something I’ve been pondering this first week in Tennessee.
Here we are! We reached FI, we’ve made it with all of our belongings and we are now official residents of the Volunteer State. It’s our launching pad to slow traveling full time.
It is the “place” I have been dreaming about for years. Where I’m standing was once the goal.
Is a ritual called for? More journaling? Presence?
If you have answers, let me know. I’d also love to hear about a time when you reached the place you’d been dreaming of and how you marked that time.