Dear Reader,
How are you?
Really though. How are you?
I ask because we don't always... Ask. We don't often notice. Ourselves and others. We don't really check in. Show up. Not really.
Like the fairy who dances in her meadow, which she realises is no longer full of flowers, but ivy, wrapping around her legs, piercing her delicate skin, and holding her in place. Trapped in a world where she doesn't belong.
When I take pause from travelling abroad, I move between friends and family at "home", which is a fictional place that oscillates between Ireland and England. Sometimes it even feels like France, and very occasionally, I feel it at the point where the ocean meets the shore 🌊
Although I never stop moving between these groups of people, it is not the same feeling of travel.
I pause and look at those around me, with their closets for their clothes, their cute coffee cups. There stability and comfort...
I cherish the moments spent with family, where we walk the old country roads, listening to lambs bleating. The chess matches with my dad, the wonderful home cooked food from my mum.
I adore the happiness in the faces of my friends, as we laugh together and share stories. I savour the taste of oat chai lattes from Bean Around or the moussaka from Turkish kitchen, two of my favourite cafe/restaurants in the world, which happen to be in bloody Peterborough, England, of all places.
Yes.
There is beauty in every corner of this world, waiting to be found.
As the fairy happens upon the Narcissus, beaming up towards the sky. That moment of bliss before the dark...
...Only to be found once again, some moons later.
There is a feeling. A nomadic sensation of detachment, where nothing seems real, good nor bad. Something growing.
I'm starting to feel the blossom of the seeds set many months ago. The healing from teachers over the shadows of strangers.
The thorns which cut so deep, there only to protect the rose 🌹
As the fairy dances through the meadows, the thistles only make her feet stronger.
✨ The embrace of a spiritual soul.
🥝 The reunion with someone who sees me.
The reminder that though I am strong, others are suffering so greatly in themselves.
The strength I feel now will pass, just as the flowers fall from their palace of beauty, to eventually become a different part of this world, through the endless cycle.
How do the petals feel to you?
Something so strange in the air, on the horizon, just out of reach.
Can you still smell the sweet scent?
When I close my eyes on my mat, I can almost catch the loving scent of a frangipani...
The harmony of willows which reminds me of a time I sat in stillness, recaptured only a handful of times.
The firm protection of the Rain Tree, with all its magical droplets of leaves...
Falling as the cycle continues, on and on...
Let's not fall so far from the tree of life...
And offer a branch to those who do.
To share the beauty we find in our brightest moments, with those who are suffering their darkest days.
If you are withering, Dear Reader, look around you for the closest branch.
...And the fairy keeps dancing
Through the meadow of thorns in her mind...
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