The Backpack
#2163
When I go on a hike, I carry the bare minimum. Every object in my backpack is going to weigh me down and make the journey harder, so I keep only the essentials. It’s easy enough for short hikes, but a bit more challenging when I have to stay out for days.
That means the moment of packing is fundamental.
Do I carry this with me? Will I need it? Can I do without?
The things I have to leave behind are always far more than the ones I can carry. Sometimes, I have to let go of things I’d truly love to have with me.
But here’s the thing: the choices I leave behind are not going anywhere. They don’t disappear. They just don’t weigh on my shoulders while I’m travelling.
For a long time, I misunderstood what “letting go” actually meant. I thought it was about removing something from my life, forgetting it completely. That belief is exactly what stopped me from doing it. It felt too brutal. Too painful.
But letting go doesn’t mean erasing something. It’s not about the object of our attachment; it’s about the attachment itself. It’s simply choosing not to carry that weight in your backpack while you hike. The space, the memory, the option—it doesn’t disappear. It’s not forgotten. You’re just walking without it for a while.
So, every now and then, when I feel tired, I pause. I unpack everything onto a blank page and ask myself: Do I really need to carry all of this right now? Is there anything I can leave in a safe place while I move forward?