Flashing by fluffy green.. Comforting rocking of the evening train. A relief to have time to think, feel, start to dare to unravel the day, month, year.. To begin to scratch around beneath these surfaces & try to understand some of the facets when no ones looking in.

A Ghost on a train amidst all the other weary travelling spirits.

Full of music. In my belly. Rhythm.. A yearning to make this fire real. Light it up in the garden where I stay. Bring that raw element to the town.

Burn all that doesn’t help us.

Mama Kita ma khaya. I’m coming home.
Long journey, dusty feet.. Tangled hair. Muddy clothes. Leather bag. One silver key in my pocket for the sun house. The place I can rest my head. How lucky am I. Humbled by the need for a safe place & the helping hands of that sanctuary.

Lost in places its hard to admit.
Homage to the space. To the fear. To the acknowledgement of how needed these gaps are sometimes. The faith in knowing that the listlessness is needed to make way for the golden clarity to come in.. Make way for the new direction. For what really wants to unfold.

Thank you with all my heart for coming back. Through a raging storm I built you a spirit house & you came, bringing peace in your midst. Spinning and grappling the thrashing rain I could see hardly anything.
But I remembered you serenity. I called you through the mist with tears & sweet offerings ..and you heard.
And the light came back in.
And the sky cleared.
And the soothing touch of paulo santo filled the room
stroked the walls,
Cleansed my lungs and my senses
Gave the gift and the chance to begin again.


Building a spirit house

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