Hitting The Wall

I'm an old hand at these events. I've been doing them for years. Varying places, varying lengths of time, varying people, but there's a sameness about them.

Arrive, set up, make a nest to roost in, figure out where I have to be, and when, and get on with it. I enjoy the down time, when I have it. I enjoy activity, when I have it. I try to be fully in each moment, not worrying about what's next in the day.

There comes a point at each event, though, where I hit the wall.

At a two-day event, it's usually right about when I'm packing to come home anyway, so it's fine - I just plod on with the packing and get on home.

At these longer events, though...it's usually Wednesday. Halfway through, I'm exhausted (although in a good way, it's still exhausted) and ready to be done, but I'm only halfway. Something inside me whimpers - it wants to be home again. Home.

Home is where the heart is.

Where's my heart?

I have hit the wall, smacked right into it, hard. I'll start packing tomorrow evening because I always start a little early, because I want to be on the road as soon as possible. If I can, I'll have everything ready to load into the trailer before I go to bed tomorrow night.

Even better, I could start tonight...

But maybe I'll head down to the drum circle instead...be here, present in these moments. Because I've hit the wall before, and will again, and I know I will get past it and move on down the road.

And I do have a destination in mind, this time...I'll give you a hint...it isn't a wall...it's a thing with feathers...