I write this sitting* beside a stream flooded with thousands of tadpoles. Frogs not yet apparent. Drying mud cracks around my thumbs and finger. My throat is parched. A plane tumbles overhead. Dogs lie on the grass. And one cheek on my face is being warmed by the sun. My daughter is somewhere. Running around barefoot. And then she's back, poking sticks into the water, fascinated by the tadpoles.Read More
I can describe someone’s laughter, the look of my dogs face, but not the way the forest smells at night. Only to tell you this: it smells different. Fresher, wetter, pinier. The trees looked like water colours.
Soon my feet found their way as my eyes lost theirs. There was something liberating in that. And also the relaxing that happened. The reasoning being that if there are any dangers - dangers being the only reason not to go out at night I guess, because it's not exactly bad for you, and it's not exactly dull - the dogs will alert me, so really all there was to do, was enjoy, walk and explore. Reminding me that so much of what we are told when young, sinks in and we confuse for truth.Read More
There are heart makers and heart breakers.
I met a wonderful heart maker in Guatemala a wee while ago in 2003. I was staying at a yoga camp beside Lake Atitlan, this huge globe of a lake: calm in the morning, temperamental in the afternoon. And though I forget the exact moment that Ugly and first I met, the memory of her still oscillates around in my chest. In fact, I think there is an Ugly nubdule in me, so that I only need to think of her name and something in me softens…Read More