The garage door creaks and groans when it opens as the early morning chill of a new winter day begins. I patiently stare out of the garage as the door rises gradually, slowly exposing the sunlight in ever expanding slivers of light. The little ones, eager with anticipation, ignore patience, and bounce up and down and tug at their leashes with the hope that their journey will soon begin. I wait a while longer and walk toward the door as the little ones pull with an excessive ferocity and excitement. Who am I to question that excitement? Everything is relative - is it not?
The disappointment is palpable as I stop our advance down the driveway to close the garage door. The stares from the little ones are piercing and their whines and barks tear at the heartstrings. They say the little ones have no concept of time. I guess “they” never took their little ones for a walk. I chuckle at the absurdity of the little ones and the minute I beckon, “Let’s go?” the little ones, tangled in their leashes, suddenly become calm. The intertwined leashes become taut as the little ones separate from their impromptu wrestling match and begin walking.
The blue canopy overhead, the occasional cool breeze, and the tranquil, desolate street invite us to continue without worry for an eternity. During our little journeys, I feel as though the world perceived by the little ones and my world are synced in a rejection of the confines of home to the wide open possibilities of the outside world. They seek relief from being imprisoned within our home and the occasional backyard experience, seek relief from the same smells and triggers, and they seek the possibility of finally coming face-to-face with that pesky dog that they can hear barking in some unknown yard in the distance.
Without their daily journey, the little ones’ madness is palpable, culminating in mischievous deeds, chewed objects, unrelenting digging to nowhere, unnecessary barking, and ceaseless pacing in search of a little purpose that is out of their grasp. On our little journeys, all their troubles and madness seem to disappear and their purpose is abundantly clear-keep moving, keep observing, and keep discovering.
Perhaps humanity can learn from the little ones’ experiences on their little journeys. Purpose is what keeps humanity going, keeps humanity sane. The moment we stop moving, stop observing, and stop discovering is the moment that humanity ceases to progress. In a world where automation, the constant bombardment of information, and the ceaseless temptations of technology distract humanity with the frivolous, it can be difficult to appreciate the world external to our technological devices that keep us confined in our own small electronic yards.
Life’s purpose is not as difficult to find as humanity seems to think. A willingness to ignore all that distracts in favor of a little journey may be all that is needed.
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