Life is a journey. Words are the map!

Another year had turned the corner and vanished like fog. The Little People had busied themselves without notice — there were hungry mouths to feed, shelters to build, obstacles to overcome, intentions to be held. The Little People knew first-hand that time feigns nothing when life hinges on survival. There were no amenities among their tattered tents nestled in hidden spaces. There were no inheritances or secret fortunes awaiting them. There were no inventive breakthroughs being planned for keeping the homeless comfortable. For the Little People, there was not a second that did not require vigilance or diligence. Every detail of their disinherited, estranged life was wrought with an acute awareness of uncertainty and a belief they were addicts and vagrants. Despite a meager footprint in their existence, the Little People spent their lives countering attacks from those with power and money, from those who wanted their existence to cease. So, they bartered for the common space, grew their own food in small, depleted land tracts along dirty streams, and fought to keep their right to life arcane and distant from their thunderous opposition.

Seasonal change is normally a time of celebration for the Littles. As cold air dissipates, so does threat of death by exposure. Communal tents of loosely stitched fabric and cardboard can be replaced with jackets made into pillows for open-air sleeping. Cardboard is premium as a vapor barrier. Food is easier to acquire and more plentiful. But there would be no celebration this year. The town leadership had issued an edict forcing the Littles to vacate — even the ‘common areas’ of a town belonged to the them. The impulsive, imprudent, and self-serving whims of local government jeopardized The Littles like a plague. Townships were governed by a concept they called ‘progress,’ and that type of progress was foreign and oblique to the Littles.

Johanna admired that Tar always had a responsive plan for the Littles. The nomadic group had to be quick of mind and faster on foot when the locals struck because they were always outnumbered. This time, there had been little warning. Johanna packed the last of her belongings, stuffed her jacket into a knapsack for the journey ‘elsewhere.’ She had learned to fold a puff jacket into the perfect pillow by turning its hem upside and then tucking both arms inside. Multi-purposing was her forte’ and it made her invaluable to the Littles.

Considering her marching orders from Tar, the group leader, Johanna was glad to see the buds of Spring. Her tall, thin frame was perfectly suited for the bohemian style dress she loved to wear — the stains and tears were no deterrent. Today, however, she was wearing army pants sifted from a nearby Salvation Army garbage bin and a dirty ruffled blouse that failed to flatter. She represented a minority of women among the Little People, a fact she did not try to hide. She asserted herself among the Littles with an equal voice, unlike the voice of her past.

How long do you think it will take for them to discover the good we did here?” Johanna asked Tar.

Tar replied quickly, “We will be lucky if they ever think we make a difference.” 

Johanna did not respond but was grateful that Tar’s heart usually conquered his cynicism. She hoisted her backpack over her shoulder and sat on a nearby rock to tie her shoe, then fidgeted with her agate necklace as she waited for Tar to finish packing his wares. She felt the blue rock surrounded by handmade macrame brought her good luck and kept her grounded. A mere touch could draw power from the stone. Tar was a master of living on the road, but Johanna was a master of survival. Trauma loomed beneath the joy in her eyes though her darkness was well deflected by her light. Grief once overshadowed her like an impenetrable blanket. She often wondered if Tar could see it entombed in all four chambers of her heart.

Johanna and Tar had much in common. Ten years had brought them closer, so close they could sit in silence together for hours. She never forced a smile creating authenticity among Tar and among the Littles. When she did smile her emerald eyes radiated. Tar called her ‘rainbow eyes.’

When the group appeared to be largely packed and ready to travel, Johanna asked Tar, “What’s the plan?”

“We’ll move toward the Springs,” he said. “There is ample water and generous space in the wooded areas. We can set up a camp that may last weeks if we’re lucky.”

Finding a natural place to serve out their purpose only added to their purpose. Natural spaces with rocks and water had higher vibrations.

Leaders were not chosen, nor were they elected among The Littles. Leaders just sort of emerged based on an outgrowth of need and consensus. A good leader would encourage the group to stay true to Little principals without being supercilious. The Little People were spiritually and mystically minded people which made the job ‘leader’ much easier.

“Why don’t you gather the force, Johanna? I’ll give the group a game plan before we head out.”

Johanna was happy to comply and was quickly able to gather the group of twelve together under a large shade tree.

Tar spoke with an authoritative humility. His voice was well-suited to small groups and his personality well-suited to their mission.

“We have had a minor setback and must be moving on,” Tar began. “We didn’t quite complete our mission here, but we did some good. Let’s not be disappointed by the disruption. Remember, we are everything when we are nothing. We surrender ourselves to the larger good. If we adopt the ways of men and science, we become a metonym.”

Tar’s words made Johanna feel proud. As soon as the group was afoot, she told him so. Tar showed no emotion and no gave response which did not surprise her. He was usually quiet and only assumed the role of leader when the Littles’ last leader, Dusty, fell ill from contaminated food and passed on to the next life. Johanna had cared for Dusty, so named because his wayfaring favored dirt roads more than asphalt. Dusty suffered days of high fever, diarrhea, and abdominal pain before he finally succumbed to the bacterium that killed him.

Johanna had leaned on Tar for solace. She could still hear Tar’s words in her mind, “Suffering is necessary. “Without it, men find neither gratitude or compassion.” And that was all Tar had to say on the matter. It gave Johanna enough perspective to find peace though she often wondered if Tar had a bone to pick with Dusty.