Walking is simple enough, unless you are learning how. Toddlers work hard to find the right balance between movement and weight, momentum and direction, and then the sudden transition to uprightness. We forget what it was like to not know and take for granted our mastery of a simple skill. Except that isn’t it at all. We don’t walk, none of us. The motion of our legs and feet, the shift of weight, these are the incantations we make to hasten the earth beneath us. None of us, not one, truly moves at all.
As you can imagine, when there are many unmoving people ushering the earth this way and that, determining a course, there can be confusion and conflict. This is especially true when people carry guns and other weapons and seek to harm each other. The earth understands, when war breaks out, that many will flee while others will destroy and be destroyed. The earth struggles to comply with such contradictions.
I have found that if I hold still, not commanding the earth to move beneath my waving feet and reaching legs, that others will pass near. Always, I have found, that I was meant to meet them, even if they do not recognize that our proximity was always with us, a part of us, a connection and definition of who we are. That is why I’m never surprised when you appear. And yes, I look for you, even see you where you are not, but always the proximity is there, a bridge to cross to join hands and sing together.