The Walk

A parable about empathy and interconnectedness

Freya and I were out on a walk one morning, as we often have occasion to do. She loves long romantic walks down old and worn dusty paths. Her favorites always seem to be flanked by trees on either side. I believe she would have us living in those woods together, just her and me, if she could. She seems to be at her happiest on these walks with a cool autumn breeze in the early morning hours just after the sun has risen above the horizon. She loves dipping her toes in the early morning dew, listening to and running with the wild creatures of the forest. It makes her feel alive and keeps her young and vibrant. I have to admit, it keeps me feeling young and vibrant as well. Even as these old bones creak like centuries-old floorboards.

This particular morning, just ahead on our path, I could see a small leather satchel off to the side.  Curious, I asked Freya to go fetch it for me. Being the good girl that she is, she was happy to oblige. She knows it's hard on these old bones to stoop and bend these days.

As Freya came trotting back with a proud look of accomplishment in her eyes, I took the satchel for a closer inspection. Apart from the obvious teeth marks, the satchel appears to be vintage but very well cared for. Dark brown, well-aged leather that’s been kept oiled through the years. Hand-stitched with an even darker brown leather cording. Drawstring closure at the top. Etched all along the leather fabric were these ancient, mystical symbols. It looked like something that had spent eons traveling through space and time.

As Freya and I continued on our walk, satchel in hand. I said to Freya, 

“You know, old girl? This bag was not just carelessly tossed aside like a piece of trash. Surely, someone must be missing it.” 

We pondered over it for the next few steps. 

“Perhaps,” she said. 

I heard her plain as day. 

“Perhaps if you look inside, you’ll find a name and address. We could return it.”  

I replied, “Hmmm. You have a point there, dog. Best if we can get this treasure to its rightful home. Are you ready for a little adventure, Ms Freya, girl?”  

A question I should have also asked myself. I don’t think anyone could have been prepared for the adventure on which we were about to embark.

As I carefully untied the deep, dark brown leather cord, the top of the satchel loosened and slowly fell open like a timelapse of the petals of a rose opening to full bloom. Peering into the opening, I didn’t see a black hole of void as I expected. No. Rather, there was this bright golden light. It was as if looking directly into the face of the sun itself.  All consuming. Encompassing. For a moment, it was as if nothing else existed. 

I can’t tell you how long I had been standing there, in the middle of the road, entranced and mesmerized by this light when I felt Freya nudge me on the leg. 

Snapping back to our current mission, I reached my hand into the bag to search for something with a name or address on it. Feeling all around, at first, I could feel nothing at all. Not even the sides or the bottom of the bag itself. Freya and I looked at each other in bewilderment. Neither of us was quite certain what to make of it. I rammed my arm all the way in. Freya and I both kept our eyes fixed to the bag’s outer bottom. There was no movement at all. It was as if I had never even touched the satchel. 

As I was pulling my arm back out of the bag, preparing to scratch my head and give this another thought, I suddenly felt something brush past my hand. Before I could say anything, Freya felt my energy rise. Excitedly, she began tapping her toes, as though she were dancing in place. She exhaled an impatient whimper, asking me to hurry and show her what I had found. 

But what I found wasn’t that easy to just show. It brushed past my hand like ghostly vapors. Something was there, but I couldn’t quite grasp it. Each time I tried, it just dissipated between my fingers. 

I said to Freya, “It's like trying to pluck a cloud from the very sky above us.” 

Indeed, I was growing frustrated. I contemplated returning that infernal puzzle bag back to the very earth whence it came. Freya and I both, now, were quite certain we understood why it was so carelessly tossed there to begin with. 

But, you know? Something kept nudging at me to just stop and take a beat. During that moment of stillness, thought and reason had a chance to catch up. And I reasoned that this was no ordinary bag. It was special. Unique even. If it was mine and I had lost it, I would hope that whoever found it would find a way to return it to me. Taking the easier path out of this mind-bender wouldn’t be treating the owner of this satchel the way I would want to be treated. And I simply couldn’t, in good conscience, just toss it aside and go merrily about my day as if I never saw a thing. 

I looked back at Freya. Giving me one of her trusted forward head nods, she said,

“You’ve got this, Mom. Just take a deep breath.”

As I took this deep breath in through my nose, all the way down to my belly, I could feel its pause, there in the deep as it turned to begin the journey back up and out through my mouth. Each breath, maintaining this perfect circle of molecular exchange. I shook off the frustration and calmed my mind by bringing it back into alignment with my heart, my original intention. This process rebalanced my energetic field from the chaos that was building inside the frustration between wanting and not getting. 

This time, I cupped my hand gently and slowly slid it back into the satchel. I didn’t chase. I simply allowed my hand to sit, open and ready to receive, amidst the nothingness, like Buddha sitting in Lotus Pose in deep meditation, hovering above the earth’s abundant harvests. 

After a moment, one of these ‘clouds of ghostly vapors’ came to rest in my hand. Slowly, I began to remove my hand from the bag, careful not to disturb this mystical treasure, lest I scare it back into the golden here-wherever. 

I get a giggle out of it now, how mad I must have appeared to others passing by. Standing in the middle of the path, still,  holding this satchel, frantically searching for something tangible, an inanimate object bearing some sort of identification. And then finding myself not only speaking about it, but to it, the same as I speak to Freya, or any other conscious being. No. There’s nothing to see here, folks! But then, it certainly seemed to behave as though it had some level of awareness. 

As my hand mercifully emerged from the satchel’s golden light, a single bubble the size of the palm of my hand had come to rest. It wasn’t a bubble made of water. It appeared to be born from nothing. It was visible, yet invisible. It could be felt but never touched. It contained everything, and yet, nothing at all. It wasn’t a thing at all. But it was something. 

I held the orb up toward the rays of sunshine filtering through the branches lining our path overhead. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I wanted to study every detail in the fullness of the light, in clear view. To know this magical orb of translucent luminosity intimately. Freya agreed. Though, I’m fairly certain she was hoping it could be her new favorite chew toy. 

A light breeze brushed past and the orb drifted out of my hand. Caught in a draft, hovering above us, the bubble burst. Freya and I found ourselves drenched from head to toe in this golden light. We weren’t wet in the sense of downpours like parts of the south tend to see this time of year. But we were soaked all the same. We were awashed in sunlight that doesn’t burn. In rays that illuminate but never blind. It was as if we were ensconced in this deluge of interconnectedness.

At once, I could see beyond the veil of our current reality. Everywhere I looked was devastating beauty within the whole tired mess we call humanity. I could see each invisible, indestructible thread  binding one soul to the next. A web that went on forever in every direction. How every single choice made or not made affected the whole of this web. Even those that our own limited perceptions deem as contained to only ourselves. Nothing was safe from this all-consuming oneness.  

It was like peering into a scrying mirror, glimpsing inside the private world of others. Understanding why they’ve made the choices they did. Feeling as they felt between the choices they had to choose from in those moments. Often only ever having a choice between one evil and another, forced to choose the lesser of the two. Never truly arriving at a place where they had a choice between any real desires, hopes, or dreams. Always only ever surviving. Never truly living. I couldn’t help myself from wanting to help them, all of them. Any preconceived judgments toward others that had been ingrained in me lifted like fog on a cool Autumn morning, rising above the deep, still waters on the pond . 

But, I could also see all that humanity was truly capable of if given the chance. How that web of interconnection had formed an impenetrable barrier of protection. I could feel the strength that came with true unity. I bore witness to the magnitude of what could only be accomplished through a partnership between all of creation working in unison to lift one another up, to protect one another, to care for each other just as they cared for their own survival. A single seed of an act of devotion that somehow grew into a luscious and sprawling peaceful paradise of perfect harmony and great abundance. 

I think even Freya now has a better understanding that the squirrels aren’t out here simply having a fun game of ‘Catch Me if You Can’ with her. That perhaps they are truly terrified of her towering stature and thunderous run, as they scamper for their lives. Sometimes, even now, I can see it in her eyes as she sits quietly watching them chase each other around the trees. She wants so much to join them in their fun. She works very hard to respect their right to play freely. Even as she can taste the tenderness of the meat on their tiny little bones as she dreams of new stuffies to destroy out of joy. 

The thing is, once I truly allowed myself to see that connection that we all share, no matter how near or far, known and unknown. Once I opened myself to the idea of the unfathomable greatness that humanity could reach if we weren’t all so busy merely surviving with our heads down. I just don’t think that’s anything anyone could ever forget. It’s always there, deep in the recesses of my mind. Creeping like kudzu. Blanketing most every thought and recalibrating every decision toward this one singular ideal. 

There was just no room in my field of awareness left for “That’s just the way things are.” And “Easier said than done” and “Fantasy Land” scattered like roaches as soon as the light flipped on.

The entire world flipped upside down and right side up. What was once the logical and sensible thing to do now seemed the most absurd. And all the things that we were taught were childish, naive, and “the world just doesn’t work that way” is the only direction I seem to be allowed to move. Every other path has only led to burnout and inertia. 

The ego (for the most part) stepped aside and the soul took the helm of this ship. And all I could do was hang on and enjoy the adventure. Every breath taken from that moment forward has become a resounding mantra to make it so. 

Once the visions dissipated, Freya and I had to take a seat beneath an old oak before finishing our walk that day and returning home. Dazed, confused, and yet for the first time, seeing with perfect clarity. We decided to leave the satchel there beneath that wise old oak. For, we now knew that it belonged only unto itself. Perhaps another will catch its gaze, in one time or another. 

The rest of that day and the days that followed felt like a dream. Both of us, operating on autopilot. In truth, we were still locked in to all that we had witnessed. Still processing the magnitude of it all. At one point Freya gave me this look of disbelief and said, 

“What kind of weed did you say that was?” 

As more time passed, the weariness and heaviness of the world began to wear on me again. Those same old patterns of defensiveness and arrogance kept trying to catch light under the cover of darkness. Slow burning embers, the only thing strong enough to keep the kudzu at bay. It's an enduring vigilance of constant recalibration to remain ever focused on that one singular goal. A goal that I find I have no choice but to pursue, no matter how many tell me it's a fool’s errand. 

But Freya and I have found ourselves better off through our diligence. We’re not perfect. I still find myself on occasion under the weight of arrogance in defense of who I am. Freya still has occasion to keep those silly squirrels teleporting back up the trees in sheer terror. Sometimes it all just gets the better of us. But we adjust our sails, lighten our load, and readjust our course.  I guess I figure if I can maintain true north, then maybe Freya can surf the waves and together we can use those hurricane-force winds to sail us home.

Until the next turning of the quill... Casie