The world has been blanketed in monochromatic grey for days, a prelude to Winter’s nap. Some feral part of me wishes I could lose myself in a liminal forest, curl up under fallen leaves of an ancient oak to be reborn come Spring.
Maybe it’s not feral, it’s ancestral, the Calling of the Bears—a time for rest, reflection and receiving messages from the heart of Mother Earth. I’m grateful for a quiet mind and a soul that stills to listen. What an amazing gift.
No comments:
Post a Comment