The sound of waves and incense smoke.....

The path winds and turns through greenery, the beauty of where I am on this journey, engaged in the present. The more distant way hidden from view, until I move ahead and reach the point where one may see it revealed. The path carrying me, through changes and consolidations, as knowledge and learning evolve and shift.

The place I am, one where the direct perception of, and engagement with, nature are a compass. Living by the ocean, I take daily walks with my dog friend Meg, beachcombing our way along, the coastal spray feeds my innards and core. That part at my centre which is confident, strong and centred, tiny as a grain of sand perhaps, but returning after a period of years absent. The sounds of the waves wash through me, clear away the stagnancy that catchs in the corners of my being. In the same way that incense smoke does for the home and hearth, reaching into unexpected places and opening them gently to healing or a shift in conciousness.

Spirit journeys that one might expect to draw away from daily reality infact imbue it with signs of its luminescent underlay. The bird of prey hovering on the air currents is beautiful in its intense physicality but also carries the language of spirit messages to come. A feather found on a well manicured lawn hints that someone who has passed is near. Banksia flowers, like torches, light the way to renewed energy. Each being has its teachings to offer, as, in my experience, do those in spirit realms. I learn to ask ‘what is it you are teaching?’ giving thanks for it, and find such an approach can guide me in many realities. Sometimes the teaching is repeated, difficult or challenging.

I find mental health and perceiving spirit are not mutually exclusive terms. The two dance around each other like a dna strand for me. Balancing brain chemistry and soul can be tricky at times, but is a worthwhile pursuit. Nothing beats the satisfaction of realising that I’ve now halved one medication, the other is completely gone. That I’ve travelled through two soul retrievals and come out the other side with somewhat clearer vision. Similar strategies, in some ways, heal their after effects, even if that’s just to ask for help. I journal, trying to remember. I am amazed at the humour of spirit guides who take the piss.

 As, with guidance, I gather the fragments of soul lost and reweave them back into my life, I learn healing is not an endpoint but a process. An approach to, rather than an ascending of, lives difficulties and challenges, that requires looking into old fears and joys, whilst slowly creating a box of tools on which to draw. Like the oceans sounds, the incenses smoke, touching forgotten places and calling them forth.