Time is an ocean or a raindrop. One decade gives itself over to another and I think more that our counting of time feels awkward, and almost childish: like a stick drawing of a horse or hummingbird that can only relay the most basic and rudimentary outline. This might be the last time I worry about Xmas or New Year. Each time the winter rolls beneath walking feet I find myself, like so many other women around me these days, more attuned to the solstice and the journeying of the moon, than any man-made calendar. This is what our hearts sing to, this is what our bodies know. I stand at the ocean, in the presence of this God of Time, whose tides are drawn around the earth by the moon, beneath a winter Milky Way, in a calendar not of our design, but that has existed long before us, and that will continue to cycle long after we have become nothing more than a billion-year-old light speck in someone else’s sky. There is a humbling taking place in my soul. A deep understanding of this balance I have sought for so long. So much of what I have worked towards in the past is irrelevant in this place. So much of what I’ve ignored is the bare and essential truth of this wild life. I hope these coming years bring you joy and enlightenment or that you find your way towards them. I will continue to embrace a slower way of living, more attuned to the land beneath my feet and the ocean tides, it’s where I find peace, I hope you find it too. (I took this photo last night from our van before folding in for the evening – this place is magic).