Feeling a little fragmented and detached in solstice week.
Taurus has me longing for a stable home. Perhaps I can manifest one under this new moon...
I spent the past few weeks bunking off work in favour of cheap thrills and mini adventures.
Looking back at my own personal 2016, and forwards to a more connected 2017.
Journeying, over and over, towards my own edge.
It's easy, when you're alone with your own head a lot of the time, to forget what else is happening in your life. I flicked through my camera. Plenty, as it happens.
An update. The calm after the storm, figuring out what's next. A card for truth, to point the way.
In how, three days after I’ve left, I feel nothing for you but a sort of deep, hopeless sadness and a soreness I will soothe in the sea and with love and with time and with loving my life.
I feel strong and brave looking at these cards.
For the past week, I've held tonight's full moon as a goal, a turning point, a moment when.
A moment when what? A decision? A declaration? A statement of intent?
Time and again my cards are bringing me back to a place of steadiness. It’s only been a month. So much has been felt, thought, planned, pulled apart and stuck back together. These cards remind me that these are early days.
More photos, not so many words, as I settle in to life on Skye.
A simple spread to look at what you need, what the situation needs, and how to move forwards - plus my own personal reading.
Polar opposites of calm and chaos, of tranquility and stress, nature and junk, all part of the experience of settling in to a new life in a communal space and working towards balance and harmony.
We've said goodbye our old life and finally arrived in Skye. I don't have the words to describe how this all feels yet... so here's a short photo-diary of our move.
Change is afoot. My brain is tired, my body is stiff, my heart is happy and filled with anticipation.
I just had to share some photos of a walk I took today with Sandy and Alison, to the Fairy Pools near Glenbrittle, Skye. It was a magical place.
What Skye time is teaching me is to look and to listen. To let the land speak to me and to work alongside it. And that just as much is ‘crammed’ into an hour spent watching winter sunlight light change through birch trees as an hour spent ‘productively’.
I’ve been living on the Isle of Skye for one week. I arrived under the invisible, grounding new moon in Capricorn, tired and happy to land after a nine hour drive through some of the UK’s most dramatic scenery – two cats, my shop and the rudiments of a comfortable life packed into a friend’s …
If there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that I’m not afraid of change.
Let this sea wind batter and transform me. Let my fingers be numb and my skin whipped raw and let this tension finally give, and snap, and change.