My backpack sits at the corner with a thin layer of dust that has gathered over it. I look at it at least once a day and whenever I look at it I feel it taunting. I can almost hear it screaming, endlessly. Beckoning me to pick it up and start walking. Just start walking. No plans no roadmaps. Walk where my heart commands me to walk.
But no. Seemingly saner minds prevail. I manage to shut that voice out and turn my eyes away from my backpack.
I begin to dress myself for work. And a similar occurance. This time there was no screaming. Just soft sobs. This time it was not my backpack. It was my shoes. I hear it sobbing muttering to itself. "It's the same places every day. Same footsteps. Same dirt and the same duties". It does not say anything more just those words over and over again. And it continued to sob when I started for work.
Again, saner minds and repressed voices. It takes every bit of resolve I have to smile and wait upon people who either want to try something new or who want to remind themselves a little bit of home through their food.
Somehow amidst all the turmoil there was one who was surprisingly silent. So I asked him out of curiosity the reason for his silence. Is he, my heart, content with this routine I call a life?
He said, "if I were content with this then it would mean your worst nightmare has come to pass. And it will never end." And he told me what he wished for...what all my senses wished for...
Oh this heart of mine! It yearns to make the open road home, the fresh free air food and the damp earth bed. He wanted to escape this world of lies and deceit and become the priamal self again. My eyes, he told me, wanted to peek into the corners of the world that few have looked upon. These feet of mine wanted to grow old walking. To be one with the world as the birds, as pollen, as wind itself. And to keep moving until I glimpse the Light the world was blessed with.
