I return to Cymru. It is time to visit family in every form. Yesterday morning I woke to Moel Famau calling – a subtle but insistent pull in the chest from this great grandmother, this goddess who is part of one of the world’s oldest ranges (formed in the Silurian age over 400million years ago). Her energy shaped my waking dreams when I struggled to understand all the ways in which the natural world weaves into our individual & collective psyche. This time, as I walk, all the previous steps I’ve taken along these paths echo in my heart like ripples across the lake of consciousness. She is not grand, or imposing, or a far-flung wilderness like some of the younger mountains I’ve met on these travels, but her presence has infused most of the days of my life as I grew in the shadow of these hills. The more I travel, the more I feel a deeper need to interrogate the true nature of the arbitrary borders dictated & guarded by humans, and this in turn forces questions on how I could lay claim to any one place. Home is becoming a more transient, moveable concept, one that is rooted in people or experience rather than a fixed place. Home is wherever we park it. But still, there is something in this region of mist-filled undulating hills, of circling buzzards, purple heather, and soft green rolling pine & oak that resonates inexplicably inside me. There is something here that sings to my heart even as I remember how it was this mountain goddess who first challenged my ideas on place; who turned all my thoughts on belonging upside down, who remained insistent even as I fought to ignore her voice.