Going for a walk is a daily occurrence for lots of us. We distractedly gather together our hats, gloves, scarves and head out into the leafy lanes and wander around our rural idyll, without even noticing what we are doing.
This walk was no different from any other walk I had done of late. I chatted with my Mam on my mobile as I meandered down the braes to meet my partner in the village below our home and I distractedly ate blackberries, listened to the geese flying overhead on their way south and wished that I lived closer to family.
Today, the smell of autumn is in the air. I think about my childhood and collecting brambles with my family. Up and down the old rail tracks we would run; each with a tub that would never be full because little fingers kept dipping into them, juices running down our arms and laughter filling the space between us and the grown ups.
So, when do we stop seeing? When do we stop listening? When does responsibility and a sense of urgency to do anything except breathe in the autumn winds take over?
I don’t remember when I last felt care free. I don’t remember when I last just listened to the birds, the chattering mice in the verges, the sound of leaves dancing their last dance before adding their notes to fertile earth below.
I know that I still dream. I know that I still have that unquenchable thirst to just be. Without the demands of the future pressing down on me and the ghosts of the past whispering their tales over and over until…
Shhh…don’t think. Don’t do. Just be.
Be the colours of the sky. Be the sound of birdsong. Be the feeling of never letting go of what is. Be the last leaf to dance, knowing that tomorrow you can dance again because you believed in yourself today.