the backpack

I sure would love to take this residual stuff that's making a sticky mess in the bottom of my pack and leave it behind. 
It's hard to get out, though, as it's just a layer of goo at the bottom that hardens in winter and melts again in summer, getting all sticky--it clings to everything it comes in contact with. Although that can be good, because I can put an old belief on it like a rag and wipe up a little bit more each time as they bind together.
In the winter when it hardens, if I bang the pack against a more solid surface, some belief or memory stronger and more empowering, then bits break off and I can up-end the pack and shake and the bits come tumbling out like sharp pebbles that have been weighing me down. But if I'm not careful, they fall and get caught in my shoes, crippling me when I try to walk until I have to pause, look inside, and remove the pesky things.
What I'm looking for right now, though, is the 'goo-be-gone' that smells so citrus-fresh and comes from the Source of Love--from the fruits of all the blessings in my life, the sweetness and juiciness, the beautiful green softness that is the nest of rebirth and renewal. I know I have that bottle of 'goo-be-gone' somewhere; I've caught a glimpse of it before when cleaning out my pack and it took off the rough mud that had built up over years of hiking in all kinds of weather, and it dissolved the gum of all those repetitive thoughts I chewed on and worried over--the thoughts that stuck like burrs to the inside, along the zipper that kept me silent.
But I have to wonder . . . Even if I manage to remove all the goo that is in the bottom of my pack, will it not really matter? I mean, here I am in the midst of changing backpacks! I've been taking out of the old pack the few things that I treasure, that I want to keep, gently placing them inside the new pack. And I plan on just leaving the old one behind, thank it for its service and toss it in the dumpster where it will be buried and composted by the immense power of Mother Earth.
So, really, that old pack with its sticky goo in the bottom is of no use to me anymore. It contains the past that no longer serves, and do I really want to keep digging at the stubborn mess in the bottom? Nah.
I will just toss away the old pack of the past and create new memories of the present wearing the bright purple pack I just bought--the one with all the flowers on it! No need at all to keep picking at the goo trying to get it out, or covering it up constantly with pretty bandannas and yummy snacks. Just let it go, leave it behind. It's as simple as that.
Gosh, how we want to make things so complicated and hard sometimes. Trying to get at it, pick at it, find it again, going back to it over and over ad nauseum. What a waste of precious time and energy that could be spent exploring new trails.
Yup. I've changed packs before so why not again? I change my clothes, so why not the pack?
New backpack for new trails. Move on. Let go.
After all, it's not the pack or what it contains that is important. 
It is the journey--here, now, in the present--that dances my soul ... that is what is important. 
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This piece was inspired from a writing prompt via a 30-day course I'm participating in...

Jan Lundy--Writing for the Health of It.