We are travellers

And every so often we meet a fellow traveller, a soul playmate​, one who has also travelled far, maybe from a distant star​, maybe an earth star​, wherever we come from it doesn’t matter, it’s what ​’we do​’​ and how ​’we be​’, when ​’we get​’ to ​’be we​’​ ​

Yesterday I got to share something straight from my heart to celebrate a beautiful friend who left her body last August​. She to me was like no other and so it appears the same for many others​.

Early 2019 I heard her calling across the social media waves ​’how does it get better than this​’ and ​’what else is possible​’. She was on a new adventure having danced with Kundalini, with the earth cycles and seasons of her life. Now she was embracing a new kind of way of being with methods, tools and processes.

This way was very familiar to me having had a successful career in information technology spanning some 33 years and here I was connecting with this wild woman​ in Devon, and finding a reflection in her of the many women I have been and yet to be in this body

Yesterday as I listened to the tribute for her life I realised many more things that we had in common. No wonder I could feel her power in the words that she wrote in a post that day that drew me to her.

I can only describe it as magnetism; it’s like an invisible pull or repulsion on our heartstrings, a sort of resonance that goes beyond words, images or even songs. It’s an energetic dance, a sort of a trance that drew us together and actually so much more as I am discovering.

This is far more than we can know ​at a surface ​level, confirmed later in our friendship, by the fact that I could go and play ​with her even when I had to keep away from my family and friends during the ​’Corvid Times​’.​ We connected on so many levels of our creative expression​, never bound to the form that we had learnt​, we created a new ​play that we improvised,​ in the moment. Just as we did the last time I was with her, sat on her bed with our vests on, doing a mirrored infinite heart self massage, held by each other in the vulnerability of what we all will face one day.

Once when I dropped in she was painting her cottage and asked if I wanted to stay while she did it ​. Seven hours later ​she finished, she mostly listened as we delved into places we could only explore together. It was as if we had both entered into another world, both tuning into something far greater than us and sharing things that wanted to be spoken between us. Things that I now know touch on something ancient​, something ancestral and something so subtle that even attempting to put it into words feels like I’m losing the thread.

As I was writing this a ​Blue ​Tit ​appeared on the corner of my ​ swing bench outside the window ​, picking away at some willow rounds that I made ​, collecting fibres for its nest. I was tempted to reach for my camera so that I could capture it ​, yet realised just as I realised a moment ago that no picture no words nothing can capture the felt sense in the moment.

One of the ​’frames​’ that I am finding particularly useful at the moment is that of ​Systemic ​Constellations ​, in particular ​those that enquire into our Families. ​Sensing into what is handed down through our families, our cultures, our conditioning ​that is far more powerful than any DNA​, Epigenetics or other form of trying to explain​. This is how we sense and feel things ​, how we​ filter and resonate with others without words, without science, without spirituality.

To ​ take this form of constellation to another level is to enquire with horses​. This for me so far has been the ultimate ​ clarity as these beings represent pure energy ​. ​ No science​, no study​, no explanation can be assigned to their behaviour ​, ​only the one that is holding the field​, the one ​ enquiring can then observe its unfolding. This is a infinite improvisation with multiple realms of the imagination, or is it, have we just forgotten? It is far more than the story in the moment​, as it resonates on so many levels that can’t be explained​, as putting it in words diminishes its form​, just like taking a picture of the ​Blue ​Tit would have done in that moment that I was watching it.

My father put a ​’Tit box​’ up ​in our garden and ​feeder, he would revel with delight when he would say to Mum ‘Sylv the tits are on my nuts’. Once we had a nest of the young ones all drop out together to find their wings, they played on my youngest sister who was a toddler. What a glorious experience. My husband put up two boxes at ​The Boma, one on the north side of the annex and one on the north side of the ash tree. After he died the box on the annex fell down , yet the Blue tits still came and tapped on the window, once making us all laugh when lying down in a Pilates class. One appeared on my bedroom balcony rail and would sing to me. So these Blue Tits foraging for their nests are yet another nudge, a reminder of the circle of life, or should I say the spiral that sometimes suddenly ejects us from our coiled spring into another place.

We are all travellers in our lives and if we are lucky we get to play with many others who also just want to play, just for today, just play with what comes your way.

Just as the body leaves the mother's womb when it is mature in it, so also does the soul leave the body when it has come to perfection.

Here’s my bunch I ate for lunch and as I picked it I thought of you my dear friend

Travel well wild women, this is not the end, we’ve only just began …..