We are the iron
And the dust
The dirt that coats our boots
We are the hawk that flies
Circling in an empty blue sky
We are the grass
The burrs and prickles
The breeze that tickles
The sweating hair at the nape of our necks
As we trudge
Reaching summits in steep hillsides
Suddenly able to see fresh vistas
In our own souls
Peering into canyons
That have been there since the beginning of time
That we didn’t know existed
Until we reached this point
And saw how they were constructed
The debris at the bottom
Where the sides were too steep
So we turned back
Finding the pathway through
Taking a shortcut
An easier way
We ran out of time
In this travelling mind
And then it was time to return
The header photo Kings Canyon NT and a trip away earlier this year – in April with my niece – a lot of hiking and breathtakingly beautiful scenery.
Every time I go away, travel, moving over places that I have never visited before – I see fresh parts of the world but also of myself – most importantly of myself.
I think this is why people become addicted to travel, because it exposes parts of themselves either through hardship or beauty or just lost luggage – parts they never knew existed and they arrive at fresh insights into their own beings.
Many humans were once nomadic, some still are and perhaps this is the purpose of being nomadic. Who knows? What I know is without travel I could never have grown in some of the places that I have within my own vast interior.
And my life now, without those beautiful spaces and places to go to when I’m sitting and dreaming into a cup of tea safely back in my chair at home again – would be devastatingly small and narrow.
The header photo: Kings Canyon NT Aust. A trip in April with my niece