It’s time I admitted something about magic. Something I’ve kept hidden, because I thought maybe I’d be misunderstood (worst feeling ever), or be laughed at, or given the look that even I reserve for things that are just ‘a bit too woo.’ I may lose or ruffle some of you here, but that’s okay. It’s […]
I have started this blog post many times over the last few weeks and there is a virtual waste paper basket full of crumpled drafts with ample spillage out on to the floor. This is a somewhat romantic image for me, who imagines myself the female version of Ewan McGregor's character in Moulin Rouge in a garret somewhere trying to elicit the essence of Beauty, Truth and Love on an old typewriter that has a sticky 'e'.
My struggle is I don't know how to put into words exactly the magic that occurred as a result of how everything unfolded with the retreat a few weeks ago. Remember when not a soul signed up and it was a week before and I had no idea what the heck to do?
But then I got quiet and the quiet told me: there is still a way. There is ALWAYS a way. Trust.
