Commonly, a ship sinks because of the water that gets into it, and the feet of a hiker are torn by the pebble in its shoe, not by the ground the feet step on.
In this common game we all play, we are ships and hikers. The most essential rule among the rules we follow is to travel light. Even the culmination of the popular ten commandments is to travel light.
It is common knowledge, even among amateur hikers, that the lighter the backpack, the easier the hike, regardless of the distance. We carry so much within us that its weight crumbles us to the ground. We carry what we are supposed to carry and what we shouldn't carry. We carry mountains. We carry the world. We carry shite and we sink.
To travel light means to be bothered with less. It means to live minding what minds you, and what minds you is little if not less. Surprisingly, our backpacks are full of s— that less concerns us. Most of the time, we don't even carry what is rightfully ours. What makes you awake at night might be someone's shit and possibly doesn't bite them. You carry it for them, and they don't carry anything for you. It's not worth it.
What's worth is to live without frustrations, malice, anger, envy, and overblown expectations. Don't expect from anyone. No one owes you anything, and you owe no one anything. Life happens just as it does. And the good thing is, it does happen better when you travel light.
It is helpful to learn to take what is essential to you and live with it. Hiking with an overflowing backpack is burdensome, mostly when someone's concerns should least concern you.
A superb hike is facilitated with a light backpack.
Kabwere Musa
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