ONE HUNDRED DAYS

One hundred days on the road.

Eight provinces and four states.

We are moving and moving (everything is motion) and then we are still as can be (for stillness is our nature, too).

We are watering the seeds of our connectivity and quietly dancing as they bloom.

The land and her beings are our constant companions and every moment is one for gathering stories, for practicing this delicate thing of both holding on and letting go.

Embodied reciprocity is an essential part of where we are heading, the future says.

There is nectar here, somewhere—and the trick is to trust and the trickier trick is knowing how, where and when to listen and the super duper tongue tied trick is to keep letting all the beauty and all the grief in.

Just keep allowing it all in.
And allowing it to change us.

I don’t know anything, really, but right now in this moment from the land of enchantment I am working on this: it is a profound service (and an intentional meeting the universe) to follow your heart (even if your heart claims they don’t know anything either).