Yesterday I climbed down into the bluebell wood above the sea from the cliff path. It’s there only once a year, and the energy from the bluebells is what draws me, combined with the sound of the sea and the trees like guardians. Every year I visit them but it’s quite a difficult climb down, or rather slide. It’s hidden from view. I got tangled in brambles. It dawned on me that brambles are like earth protectors, perhaps trying to keep humans out, the way they grow sideways and along the pathways, trapping us and catching and scratching us. Once there, I lay down on the woodland floor and absorbed the earth energy and looked up at the tree tops. I lay there for ages. Just me, the earth and sea, and bluebells.
Today I am missing my dancing friends. Thinking about all the nights I have spent dancing with friends. There is nothing like it, the way it bonds us. I have been lucky to have had so many of these wonderful nights. As I get older I need it even more, not less. We didn’t know we were born, until they took it away from us. The ability to gather in sacred community and dance our cares away. So I put on ‘World is a Family’ by Louie Vega, and danced around my bedroom, tears pouring down my face, thinking of the last time we all danced together, some time at the end of February. We didn’t know how special that night was. My daughter, sisters, cousins, friends. Thinking about how much I love them. How much I still love life. I am hoping to plan a huge party for when we can dance together again.

How bitter-sweet life can be, Alice. So often we only understand the value and appreciate things in retrospect.
So true Jolandi. ‘We didn’t know we were born’ is a phrase which keeps going through my mind, when I think of the (even immediate) past. Thankfully I have nature and attunement to simplicity to keep me believing in life and love
It is a saving grace if one can find something to be grateful for, Alice.