I’ve worked out through the trails and tribulations of life, that I have old habits, ones that have proven extremely hard to break, but I’m getting there. Learning to open up is slow going, the cracks in the ice are visible now and that thanks to this little space of mine and of course all you lovely people who take the time to read my ramblings.
One that is proving hard, is my need to run for the hills when things get unbearable.
I do this thing, I just pack a bag and go, I hide from the world and my worries.
I dislike intensely that I do this, I’m not a child, I can’t play hide anymore, I should stand and face my demons, my thoughts, my emotions.
But still here I am in the middle of the moors, with our weekend bags, puppy at our feet and the space and freedom that these roaming hills bring.
Peace has fallen upon me and I feel connected with the earth.
The beauty and mystery warm my aching bones, the sun lifts my spirit, the breeze gently chases my worries away. Freedom of the mind creeps slowly in and calm begins to take order.
Is it really that I’m running away?
Or is it that I just flee to the place I know brings light and understanding.
The place where judgement doesn’t exist, the place that our screams disappear into silence, the place that words get lost into the sweeping fields never to be altered or twisted.
If this is running away, running has to be a good thing, doesn’t it?
How Marly-Kate and I love to just stand in the openness and shout and scream as loud as we can, letting the worries of life out, as we both fall to our knees we laugh and smile at how silly we must look but our hearts alight as we share in this extra special moment.
To others, maybe it’s running away but to me, it’s also making memories, our own special moments, that no one else will share with us or even begin to understand.
So maybe just maybe running away isn’t running at all, it’s beginning to heal, it’s beginning to breathe, it’s living our way.