Let me tell you a little about geocaching. Perhaps you've heard of it, read about it, or even participated in it by your own right or with a friend who's into it. There's something deep about this hobby though. Perhaps there's something deeper in everything if you look deep enough. I believe that the activities we choose reflect something deep about us - they appeal to us because they satisfy some deep need or some strange obsession that we hide deep inside.
But let me tell you about geocaching. It's an activity that sends you searching the internet for new places to go right outside of your door. It keeps you looking for new places to go, new things to see and to be quite honest, new people to compete with. The end result of a successful geocache find is an immediate sense of accomplishment and splendor that you have completely satisfied your mission. The proceeding moments are not as exciting, as the goal is now done and one must trek their way back home with really nothing to look forward but logging the find you already completed.
As you can probably see, the thrill of the sport is in the hunt, and subsequently the find itself; but not so much the result of the find: a "found" you could say. You use the GPSr - a wonderful little device that plays "hotter/colder" with you until you stumble over a rock that just looks out of place. The hidden cache could be the size of a 9mm bullet opened in half, or a refridgerator-sized lockbox in the heart of Vienna, Austria (seriously, I found that one).
I like to say that finding a geocache is 10% getting to the location and 90% finding it once you're there. And, obviously since I said it, I staunchly believe this to be true. See, the GPSr only plays hotter/colder with you until it gets lost in inaccuracy and seems to say "ah, you find it yourself, I got you this far." At which point you are obliged to comply and start sticking your hand in every hole that may hold a geocache or a geocreature. Or, you may just find a used syringe (seriously, I found that one in the Vatican City).
To be fair though, the 10% is certainly no walk in the park - although quite frequently it is a walk in a park. Given the circumstances, you may find yourself scaling a tree, wading through a creek or crawling through a 3-foot diameter storm drain. There is a lesson to be learned from the trek to a geocache, and it is this: the most straight and direct route to a geocache is almost never the best route. Such is the case in all of life, I believe: to arrive at a desired end result, you almost always have to stray from the most tempting route.
I want to be rich; I want to be filthy rich. Not even for the lavish life, but because money is a score that signifies success in the world of business. But for now - my mind is on learning and growth: the windy road to money.
Stay tuned for more insights into the unexamined.