I wrote this piece almost a year and a half ago when we landed in a place we now call home. After 3 weeks in the city with some unexpected spins and turns and some really tough moments in the mix— (And importantly I witnessed a ridiculous miracle in a moment of absolute fear, I’m still gathering my thoughts 1 week later) it’s brought cause to some reflections. This week I have revisited some pieces past written and I’m learning that some carry a personal timelessness that gain more and more meaning the longer they have been in ink. Looking forward to getting home basically and grateful for where we have landed. 🏡 ——— I find myself writing from a small sense of place, it’s lasting a little while, here and if you know, you’ll know it comes, and goes often too quickly so while the electricity is floating above in both colour and sound and my feet feeling the ground in a way they often feel heights you’ll find me here, in this sense of place listening to sounds... ...I don’t feel it to be a painting or poem although it could be but I’ll call it communion while I’m still looking or not looking for the word. I’m learning I must see water, and what holds its masses is less of the matter— and so my hair it floats here softly in its rivers and the absence of salt is made up for in the way words are exchanged with people. It’s a different kind of breathing here and I must admit, I’m teaching my lungs their natural resonance but not on my own the trees are kind and mountains too bringing their ease to the cause and I’m thankful so darn thankful for the things that are right on time in all kinds of time. And the more I am here being alive laughing touching moving eating stretching floating the more I believe that I am seen and known in a deeply personal way by something greater then existences... ...and I could call it all happenstance but wouldn’t that just be “calling it a day”? to know spirit is to live by it and to live by it, I think, is to be truly awake eyes open heart pulsing alive, here.