“Fulfillment cannot come when the present moment is little more than a struggle to bear in order to attain the future, because that future is destined to become nothing more than the struggle of a new present, and the glorious end state never arrives. The focus must be on the walk that is life with the string of present moments.”
— Arthur C. Brooks, From Strength to Strength
The Illusion of Arrival
Arthur Brooks’s words capture a quiet tragedy of modern life: the endless deferral of joy. We tell ourselves that the struggle today is worth it because tomorrow will be different. We grind for the promotion, save for retirement, or push through the stress of now because the future, we imagine, will finally be peaceful. But when tomorrow arrives, it wears the same face as today. The deadlines return, the noise resumes, the inner restlessness finds a new object to chase.
Brooks calls this the success addiction loop—the compulsive pattern of pursuing the next win, only to discover that each victory fades faster than the last. The high performer learns, painfully, that achievement without attention becomes a treadmill. The scenery changes, but the motion does not.
He found the counterpoint not in theory but in practice while walking the Camino de Santiago, the ancient pilgrimage route through northern Spain. A long walk teaches something that a long career rarely does: progress is not the point. Presence is.
The path itself is the teacher.
The Myth of Later
Our culture sanctifies “later.”
Later is when we will rest.
Later is when the work will finally mean something.
Later is when the joy will be justified.
But later never comes. It only arrives disguised as another now.
Brooks’ observation tears through that illusion. If you treat the present as an obstacle to the future, you will always live inside obstacles. The “glorious end state” we imagine—retirement, reputation, arrival—will dissolve into another set of tasks, another list of anxieties, another yearning for something beyond.
You can spend a lifetime preparing to live without ever doing so.
The Present as the Practice
The wisdom of the Camino is brutally simple: the only step you can take is the one under your foot. Pilgrims who rush to reach the cathedral in Santiago often burn out, miss the beauty, or get injured. The ones who finish with peace, not just completion, are those who learn to slow into rhythm—to be with each moment instead of trying to conquer it.
Brooks’ quote is less about contentment and more about consciousness.
He is not advocating passivity. He’s pointing to attention—the discipline of inhabiting your life as it happens. Fulfillment does not come from controlling the future but from attending to the present.
Psychologists call it “flow.” Theologians call it “abiding.” Monks call it “the practice of presence.”
All point to the same truth: you cannot experience peace while sprinting through your own existence.
The Failure of the Future-Fixated Life
Why doesn’t striving for the future fulfill us?
Because we adapt.
Because we arrive and immediately want more.
Because we tie our identity to performance.
Because we treat attention as a means, not an end.
Each of these mechanisms turns the present into a waiting room for meaning. You live suspended between what you fear losing and what you hope to gain. The result is exhaustion disguised as productivity.
The world applauds such exhaustion. It calls it success. But Brooks insists that true success is different. It is not the sum of your achievements. It is the quality of your attention in this moment.
The Walk as a Way of Life
“The walk that is life” is more than a metaphor. It’s a method.
To walk is to move at the speed of thought. It is to synchronize the body and the mind. When you walk, you can’t multitask. You breathe, you look, you notice. You are aware of your weight shifting, of distance closing, of the ground holding you.
Brooks’ insight echoes ancient wisdom:
Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom (Psalm 90:12).
Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself (Matthew 6:34).
Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might (Ecclesiastes 9:10).
Every tradition that teaches peace insists on the same paradox: you find eternity not by escaping time but by entering it fully.
Fulfillment and the Second Curve
In From Strength to Strength, Brooks introduces the idea of two intelligence curves. The first curve—fluid intelligence—rewards speed, innovation, and ambition. It dominates early career life, where success comes from problem-solving and rapid learning.
The second curve—crystallized intelligence—emerges later. It values wisdom, synthesis, and teaching. It is the capacity to draw meaning from experience and to guide others.
The shift between these curves often feels like loss. The body slows, the mind doesn’t race as it once did, the applause fades. But Brooks argues that it’s an invitation. To move from the first curve to the second is to trade striving for savoring, accomplishment for offering, ambition for legacy.
The Camino becomes a symbol of that second curve, a journey where what matters most is not the pace or even the destination but the companionship, the reflection, the prayer woven into each step.
Living the String of Present Moments
The language of “a string of present moments” suggests continuity without control. Each moment is a bead—small, distinct, fragile. Together, they make a life. The thread holding them is attention. Lose attention, and the thread frays. Hold it, and you see the design forming.
So how do we practice this?
Not through dramatic change, but through deliberate awareness.
Start the day with stillness before screens.
Do one thing at a time, with your whole self.
End the day naming what was enough.
Over time, this becomes a posture, not a tactic. You begin to recognize life not as a set of projects to complete, but as a path to walk.
For Leaders and Builders
For those in leadership, Brooks’s insight is not just personal, it’s structural. Teams mirror their leaders’ attention. A leader who lives for the next milestone breeds anxiety; one who models presence cultivates steadiness.
The healthiest organizations understand this rhythm: focus on the next faithful step, not the illusion of arrival. Excellence comes not from perpetual acceleration but from sustained, intentional motion.
Invisible excellence, the quiet reliability of people doing small things well, is the organizational version of the Camino. It’s what holds the journey together.
The Spiritual Core
At its heart, Brooks’s reflection is a spiritual statement: the future cannot save you.
Only presence can redeem the present.
Faith traditions remind us that God is not found in the promise of “someday,” but in the sacrament of “today.” Every moment carries sacred weight because it is the only moment that actually exists. Eternity is not endless time—it is depth of time.
When Brooks speaks of fulfillment as “the walk that is life,” he is naming that depth. It’s the holy ordinary. It’s the step, the breath, the conversation, the work done with care.
The Benediction of the Walk
To live this way is not to abandon ambition, but to consecrate it.
You still plan, still build, still hope. But you stop postponing meaning until you arrive. You learn to walk with life, not through it.
The pilgrim who walks the Camino learns a simple rule: When you walk long enough, the destination is not a place. It’s a way of seeing.
Brooks invites us into that vision.
To step off the treadmill of deferred joy.
To inhabit the now as the only place where love, creativity, and wisdom exist.
To focus not on the end, but on the walk that is life.
And when we do:
Fulfillment ceases to be something we chase.
It becomes the ground we walk on.