As I near the end of this journey I find myself thinking about very little.
As I walk along my mind is mostly vacuous. It's like the wind blows through my thoughts. My eyes pick up on the colours around me: greens of every shade, pink pops of flowers, yellow happy, white delights of daisies, purple passionate, and a rare blue sky.
I smell nature, animals, pungent bodies, rotting decay, ocean of my heart, and succulent wild roses. Sounds are everywhere. Birdsong sing keeps me company, gurgling brooks and rivers, frogs and toads forever present, and little squirrels squealing. I am here apart of the mix.
The sound of my bear bell is my chant and I shake along. Even when I try to find lyrics to unlock the "monotony" (which is so very rare) I find myself at a loss for the words. My retrieval mechanism has shut down. I sing "Johnny Appleseed" everyday. I make up my own version. I have to remind myself to take pictures and I've done a mediocre job of it along the way. Frankly, I'm ok with that. I am soaking in this pleasure even when my feet are numb and taking the next step brings pain. My ongoing fantasy as the day ends and the kilometers are mounting is that I can float. I picture myself walking a few inches above the ground. My feet are in rough shape but everyday this body serves me. Walking is hard. It's a physical toll on the body and I am pushing my personal limits. Yet here I am today in the company of my very good friends here at The Fisher's Loft, held up by wind and rain.
Even though I need to rest, I yearn to walk. I am not deep thinking. I am a fulcrum for the sights and the sounds of the world around me. They twist in and out of me as I make my way.
My life is not complicated. I am a part of it all, body and mind.