Peeling back the layers. In conversation and questions: Why doesn’t this thing work? And should I have seen it coming? And then talking to an unseen speaker via cards and images: the six of swords, the hanged man, the star:
Look to the sky, to the horizon. Take your bearings; this is a liminal space. A holy moment– don’t rush it.
The delight is the liminal. The sacred scarlet chord that — (I wonder if) — we look for from the moment the umbilical connection is severed.
It is the space between the cards where the Magic shows itself to me, a note passed from hand to hand beneath the desks, written in code. It is the spring-rain-cloud-weighted pause potency of the air when a question is turned on its head and is lobbed back to me as gentle-but-relentless teacher.
If I can make a home in the In-Between, the unknown becomes my dearest friend.