Travelling Light

Being a parent means, luggage.  Before you are a parent you can leave the house with minimal stuff, a bit of loose change in your pocket, some keys.  Once you are a parent you need lots, and lots, of luggage.  When the child is small this is disproportionate to its size; pushchair, nappies, food, wipes, spare clothes etc. etc. etc.  The amount you take with you decreases slightly at each stage.  My children now being in their teens I need very little, though I still find iphone apps (to keep them entertained) and some kind of peppermint (as a distraction from impending starvation) useful.

Today, however, my children are elsewhere; and I am alone.  This is not common and therefore disconcerting.  I plan the time when they're away, I have a mental list of things to do.  Normally this takes about an hour.  Then I am stuck.

So I took myself for a walk.  Not round the village where I live (in spite of it's charms, and vivid orange bin bags).

  I drove up to the woods, strapped on my all terrain walking shoes and set off. 

King's Wood, Challock, Kent

I resisted my natural urge to take luggage: water in case I'm thirsty, iphone with compass in case I get lost and/ or break my ankle, snack in case I get hungry, shark-repellant Bat spray in case I am attacked by a Great White - (it all makes sense if you watch this film http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060153/) and so forth.   
It put me outside the space I am comfortable in, carrying so little.  But I also felt light, and just a bit brave.
I have struggled, in recent weeks, with my post-tornado existence.  The sheer effort of keeping going, and a new consciousness (how am I still doing this?) has brought me to a grinding halt.  In my semi-collapsed state I am minded of this story and thought, from Tony de Mello's book "Taking Flight":
"Two men were once walking through a field when they saw an angry bull.  Instantly they made for the nearest fence with the bull in hot pursuit.  It soon became evident to them that they were not going to make it, so one man shouted to the other, "We've had it! Nothing can save us. Say a prayer. Quick!" 
The other shouted back, "I've never prayed in my life and I don't have a prayer for this occasion."
"Never mind.  The bull is catching up with us.  Any prayer will do." 
"Well, I'll say the one I remember my father used to say before meals: For what we are about to receive, Lord, make us truly grateful."

... In the game of cards called life one plays the hand one is dealt to the best of one's ability.  Those who insist on playing, not the hand they were given, but the one they insist they should have been dealt - these are life's failures.  We are not asked if we will play.  That is not an option.  Play we must.  The option is how.

And after all that deep and meaningful stuff it's time for a cup of tea.