The missing backpack 

So, today I walked off a Qantas plane without my baggage. 

I had absolutely no regard for whether I had it or not; I didn’t even notice until I was all the way into the city on the train. And then I did an auto check for it and realised it was missing. 

Curiously, I wasn’t upset about this state of affairs. A quick mental check told me I had lost my favourte pants, my favourte shoes, my make up bag, and my gold necklace – a valued gift. However, I still felt no pang of anxiety or panic. 

Now, either I am some nonattached attachment guru, or I am completely in denial. …?

On the plane my priorities were to right a very unrighted body problem centred around my red root chakra. Having done some reading before boarding, my aerial plan was to spin my root chakra clockwise whilst mindfully meditating. This all in an attempt to identify and then release whatever fears are causing a physical pain pang collection and at times a feeling of spiritual paralysis. It matters not whether any of this is a true healing process – instead any metaphors are intended to simply untangle any other murky metaphors already rooted in me. 

I’m not sure if I was successful in my spinny plan because i fell asleep. But I did have a little moment of enlightenment and a strong desire to attend to a closure issue upon deplaning. Which should all sort out today. 

It leaves me with the curious lack of care factor for the lost backpack. My things possibly being atomised in a controlled explosion. Because maybe they called the bomb squad. …? Apparently bags without people don’t make sense. Although sometimes, it’s people without bags that don’t make sense. 

  
 

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