Two, or maybe it was three days ago, I went on a little stroll around the area I live.
I’ve always lived in the country, I love it, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Our ‘village’ has no more than twenty houses, and no amenities – shops, whatsoever. I’ve been here for the past eleven years. It has been most of my childhood. I’m thankful and appreciative that I’ve had one so great, with so many opportunities and discoveries that I believe are so important for children.
It was misty, and I took our pooch Hendrix out in search for one of our five cats who had been missing for a few days. (He came back!) Anyway, there are very few cars, very few things to worry about. Usually I see nobody. I like it this way. It gives me a time away from all things, away from even the relatively quiet house I live in with my mother and sister. My thoughts become clear. Random things pop into my head, ones that I ponder and think about, before letting go, and allowing something else, something different to take its place. It is a walking meditation, if you like.
Though, of course, being who I am, I don’t do it nearly as often – once a week maybe, sometimes not even that. In reality I would like to do it every day, for it to become a habit, not the result of a passing, spontaneous moment. Some days I just don’t feel like leaving the house, or doing very much at all. Some days I simply do not have the energy, nor the motivation to make myself do these things. And it is contradictory, because – like so much else – it is something I enjoy a great deal, something I know will only help. And so, doing the things I love more often, is something I reach towards, something that is a set-in-stone goal within me.