The Slow Walk Home

I set out into the Australian desert on a routine pilgrimage to peace & quiet.

I thought it was time to get away, well overdue, I thought. I thought on the loudness of the world & the busy-ness of my days. From morning to night, every moment required a thought. A thought & a deed. Or a deed & a task. And a task & a thought.
Always a thought that was sought.

So, I thought I’d get away.

Away from all the ‘woo-hoos’ & yahoos of city life.
Away from fluorescent lighting & traffic lights.
Away from cooking, cleaning & laundry days on repeat.
Away from obligations, deadlines & timesheets.
Away from the ring, ding & ting of phone calls & messages received.
Away from being an emotional support person & sounding board.
Away from being the ever-attentive, yet overlooked friend.
Away from those who ‘can’t’, but ‘can’ with someone else.
Away from great expectations & broken promises on repeat.

Just away.
So, I set off on a long walk in the desert.

Towards the reddest of sands & star-lit skies.
Towards native wattle & the desert pea.
Towards desert oaks & the old man saltbush.
Where wild brumbies roam & the mulla-mulla grow.
Where water is still considered sacred (kapi wiru) & the constellations are your navigation.

On my long, long walk in the red, red sand, I walked & I felt. I didn’t 'think', I just 'felt'.
It was the first time I'd ‘felt’ in the longest of times.
Instead, I’d just thought… And I thought & I thought.

All the thinking & ringing & tinging & thinking had stood in the way & had kept my heart from its ‘feeling’.

So, I continued to walk & to ‘feel’ as I walked,
I slowed down my steps & continued my walk.
I walked as I felt & I felt as I walked,
And I remembered ‘I love’ on my slowest walk home.

Dee
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