The    Book

 

I’ve worn this costume so long—walking shoes, safety vest, recorder in my pocket—I’m not sure what I’ll find when I peel it off. I will no longer be The Walker. I’ll simply be Paula, indistinguishable from every other person navigating the planet: a mother of grown daughters, a divorcee without a home or job or car, a woman without her next plan. For someone who’s comfortable with the unknown, these details now weigh on me. After all, it’s time to digest the enormity of what I’ve just done, and on this afternoon in November—I’ve just outgrown my tent. 

~ Excerpt from 18 Pair of Shoes

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I've read that while on Earth we carry the wounds of our ancestors. I like to think that, along my travels, I've unloaded many parcels of my ancestors' pain from my backpack. Perhaps that accounts for the emptiness I feel. Or maybe it's the nakedness underneath my garb, or even yet, the prospect of  a new wound, one where the project is an empty promise. While I'm satisfied knowing I've given all I could to the Happiness Walk, apparently my ego continues to require a roadmap towards an opportune exit. 

~ Excerpt from 18 Pair of Shoes