The Beauty Lies In The Journey

By; Heather Blanchard

The Beauty of Being Almost There:

A Reflection on David Whyte’s Wisdom

David Whyte is a poet and philosopher who writes beautifully about human nature – of reality and the journey of life internally and externally. In his book titled Consolations, there is a chapter called Close with a powerful statement that rings so true – “Our human essence lies not in arrival, but in being almost there.”

Sometimes, there’s a haunting ache in the space between where we are and where we long to be. It can be hard when you’re in a space tension, of reaching, or becoming—where you’ve not quite arrived, or are just waiting to begin. That liminal, breathless stretch of in between. In this tender space lies the core of our humanity. And perhaps more than anywhere else, this is where we truly live.

Our culture exalts arrival. We are constantly taught to strive for the finish line: the job title, the relationship, the home, the achievement, the peace. Arrival is painted as certainty, control, and the relief of having made it. But so often, when we finally touch the thing we pursued with such devotion, it dissolves beneath our fingers or looks different than we imagined. Then the goalposts shift again. The longing reforms and the journey continues.

Whyte’s words invite us to resist the seduction of arrival and instead make a home in the ache of almost. To him, the threshold is not a mistake to be quickly crossed—it is the very place where our soul expands. To be almost there is to be tender with hope. It is to live with the electricity of anticipation, the ache of vulnerability, and the honesty of imperfection. In this space, we are not yet settled, and so we are awake. We are learning, reaching and often more fully alive.

Think of the moments that stay with us—standing at the edge of a long-awaited reunion, or pausing just before we speak words that might change everything. These are the sacred almosts: saturated with potential, risk or truth. In them, we meet not the polished version of ourselves, but the raw one—honest, open, and unfinished.

To honor the almost is to be gentle with ourselves, with our humanity. It’s learning that we don’t have to have everything we want to be complete and fulfilled and happy. Not everything has to be perfect or resolved or finished. It’s what keeps us moving, creating, loving, hoping. In his chapter Close, Whyte conveys that emotional, spiritual and relational proximity are often more potent than certainty. Being close to something, to someone, or to understanding often carries more meaning than arriving at the conclusion. We may never fully arrive, but are beautifully transformed just by being close.

XOXO, Heather