Before too long on mystical travels, one finds oneself observing one’s own (and other people’s) silly walks.
These are the habits, the psychological nervous ticks, the background dramas we all have; the familiar comfortable painful mental patterns we walk with and freely share with others without a care for why we have them and let them take control all the time.
There’s one over there. Every third step in the walk has to be a bow, a hip rotation, and a salute. And another one there. See him wringing his hands and looking nervously around as he makes his way down the path. What about this one? She’s crawling along on her hands and knees. I wonder why that is? Then there’s me. Keeping my head artificially high whilst nervously clutching to my belly so nobody can see my soft underside.
And so on.
Once it starts to look as ridiculous as it really is, my love affair with it starts to be over. When I notice (those lucky times I do) my own silly walk, I think, ‘why on earth do I do that all the time? Oh yes. I remember now. Well how silly!’ The silly walk can start to turn into what it needs to be; a walk. Not extraordinary. Not slouching. Not tense. Not half asleep. Alert, but not hyper. Just what it needs to be and nothing more.
And then my walk can be a ministry to others, because I’m not giving them my bizarre body movements to contend with on the path as well as their own. I can deal with theirs because I can see mine. And that means I can share the same path more easily.