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.
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.
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.
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.
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 …