Movement

Movement.  It is all about movement.  Moving, running, going, never stopping.  Always in movement.  Why do I feel like I am always moving?  Probably because I am.  I stop long enough to sleep, sort of, and then it is back to movement.  Why do I keep going?  What I am running from?  Or am I running to something? I am not sure.  I cannot stop long enough to figure it out.  What would happen if I were to stop?  Would everthing I think I know fall apart?  Would I find out that everything I believe or have put my faith in is not true?  Do I even know what I believe?  Am I compelled to movement by something outside myself or do I move to get away from what is inside me?  I do not want to stop moving long enough to find out.  So I just keep moving, running, going, scared to stop.  Scared to face the reality of who I might really be.  Afraid of what I know about myself.  Not liking what I see and not wanting to find out more.  So I move because it is what I know and it seems safe.  Movement.  In any direction, for whatever reason, just to go somewhere, anywhere; it is what I know.  So I will move...