The moth never builds a nest
flying from one plant to the next
It sits where it pleases
for an hour or a night
Then moves to another branch
its papery wings fluttering
The wind carrying it along
or breaking its flight sometimes
But the moth worries not
It's neither a butterfly
nor a little brown bird
but something in between
Its tiny feet may get stuck
on a soft wood bark
and the pollen of a flower
may seem suddenly sweet
But the moth flies on
Not knowing how to turn back
Having never seen a nest
Does it ever wonder
as it moves away
That tree I left behind
that flower I touched
Perhaps it was home?
My thoughts:
All my life, I have felt a struggle inside me between holding on and letting go, between going and coming back, between motion and inertia, between wanderlust and homesickness. Maybe it's because I have never ever known the feeling of a true home in my adult life, and maybe I have lost contact with what it means to be part of a family. I do not know if my circumstances have fuelled my restlessness or it was always in me, but here's what I do know: give me too many years in one place and I will start struggling to break the bonds of the known city.
I have recently left a city where I had lived for more than 8 years and moved to a totally unknown city. As I try to settle in my new environment, I discover in me the same strange tug-of-war - between longing for the familiar landmarks and much-loved faces of my old city and anticipation to explore a new territory with new ways of living. Even while I am writing this, I'm still struggling with this irrepressible desire to take a trip back to meet old friends and run away from this alien place, even if only for a few days. Trust me, this change is not easy and I'm still coming to terms with it after two months. But the bigger question is: was it required or was it just a bye-product of my restless nature?
I recently heard from someone about an 80-year old man who is appearing for a Master's Degree because it is something he had always wanted to do but had never got around to. On my trek to the formidable Tiger's Nest in Bhutan, I met a 60 plus man who was laboriously trying to climb a steep cliff, because he had never managed to visit this monastery in his youth and had always wanted to. What drives these people to do such things? They know it will not be easy at their age. They no longer have anything to gain financially from accomplishing such things. These are ordinary people just like you and me doing out-of-the-ordinary things for no apparent, practical reason. Such stories force me to stop and think.
The human spirit is said to be indomitable, the lifetime as a human is said to be the most coveted of all reincarnations. Why? Is it so that we can complete the designated years of education, do a 9 hour job, earn an acceptable amount of money, live in a standard family and stay within the four walls of the apartment we have bought with our saved money? Or is it because we are all born with the power to make most of our seemingly implausible dreams possible?
As I reach middle age, I often ask myself - if 60-70% of my life is now over, have I done the things which I have always wanted to do? Or have I been too afraid of letting go of the things I currently treasure and those I feel I can't do without? Is my desire to belong somewhere stopping me from acknowledging the high I feel when I set my foot in a new place, stand in front of a tall mountain, or sink my feet into the waves of an endless sea? If I have always wanted to paint or learn how to play the piano, what is stopping me from learning them? If I want to retire to a small cottage in the mountains with a dog for company, what is holding me back?
Is our affinity for home and security keeping us from realizing what we were meant to be? Is the fear of being out there alone real or perceived? Are we using love and family ties as excuses to cling too tightly to our comfort zone? How much are we willing to risk to open ourselves to new experiences and new learnings? Are the barriers to reaching our dreams outside us or inside us? That, my friends, is what we all need to ask ourselves.
