When I leave the house and shut the door, I leave one portal for another. I turn around and walk inside out, bag in hand, casting my eyes toward the horizon with content. I’m headed into the unknown, even if I think I know where I am going, a sense of adventure washes over me. I am a “lover of leaving” as Rumi writes. “Come! Come! Whoever you are ~ wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn’t matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Even if you have broken your vow a thousand time, come, yet again, come!”
When I read this, I hear an invitation to come back to the path. I also interpret it as a call for the open road. I “get the urge for goin..’” as Joni Mitchell says. I can’t say that it’s an escape, nor can I say that it’s not. I don’t leave my troubles behind – they are a part of me. I want to transform them. I want to throw my doubts to the wolves to be dissected, chewed on and spit out. Sometimes all we need is a change of perspective. A good walkabout is nourishing for the mind. We walk our dogs, because we know they need it. We walk ourselves, because it pumps the heart. We rarely walk our mind, which needs it the most.