Living Morganism

I am working on a story, the story of writing myself backwards to the experience of walking the Camino. In so doing I hope to examine how Pilgrimage continues to walk us long after the physical path is no longer under our feet. Below is a passage from my initial vision statement of sorts. Spirit is beautifully intangible, something like our conceptions of our selves. I feel the presence of a soul in myself and I have absolutely no solid ideas of what that means. Fortunately I am not possessed of the inclination to unearth unshakable proof of soul. Paradox does not trouble me, rather it lifts my heart up and what rises from within when I look into it is laughter. Perhaps that laughter is the Soul expressing its joy at being sought after? Inexplicably that thought rings with truth in this moment. I rather feel compelled to burst out laughing even now, but out of perhaps too high a regard for reservedness I settle for feeling the bubbling of that laughter within. It feels like the bu...

4 cups of Calendula petals 3 cups of Apricot Kernal Oil 1.5 cups of Brandy 10 Sticky fingers Sunshine, a cool breeze and Bliss I am happily tired, sun-kissed, freshly showered and fed on fresh greens. I am sipping sun infused herbal tea on ice. I am recalling the day, the subtle sunshine and the slight breeze, the sound of the wind chimes gently. The hummingbirds, bees and butterflies visits. The soft textures and bright colours of full summer.  It is truly remarkable how entertaining it is to simply sit and watch a garden grow.  There is dirt under my fingernails, and a recently built and finally soil filled (because I finally fixed the wheelbarrow) flower boxes along the garden shed (AKA the "Possibility Pagoda"). Peppers and cucumbers transplanted, a makeshift trellis constructed, and a couple of Datura discovered in the compost heap moved into a more central and stately location... where I can more easily sit in the moonlight and watch them bloom. There is ...

I need a practice, something to ground me, something to communicate to my deeper self that she, that I matter, that truth is what I am ultimately in pursuit of. I am so often making these pacts and promises to myself to honour this life, this purpose and, falling short, I erode my own faith in my integrity, my resolve and my essential goodness. But these unkind criticisms do not serve to reform, I am only drawn further away from my source that in so doing. I am not sure of my really living  my life. I feel pain, there is such a deep sorrow which is present when I try to hear the longing in my heart to pursue a greater purpose, a deeper truth. Such a longing to feel at 'home' whether that home is a place, a community or a sense of comfort in my own being... I long for it through uncertainty. I yearn  and in yearning feel such a sorrow, such a great loss and lost-ness. There is a longing also to express this, to put words or feeling and image to my experience. Even just to ...