Absorbing errands are the key, James said,

For stationing joy’s locus in the heart.

Can this be mere distraction from dark dread,

Or does achievement play some honest part

In happiness?  Old Ockham took a blade

To spoiled woods, and hacking down the old

And rotten trees cut clear a path to aid

Us in our listening, when truth is told.

Thus errands, roads, and woods do journeys make.

A journey’s in the walking, not the end

Nor at the start.  A million middles take

Us cyclically along the best bound bend.

Though every generation might refuse,

Out best laid labors lie in our use.

-Greg