A week ago I set off on my journey to pick up Missy. It was a journey back to roots, to a place where I was lost. And, as sometimes happens when one has lost their bearings, I had a mishap. Fortunately a minor mishap that was put right by a mechanic's expertise, a transfer of dollars and insurance data. Soon I was winding my way back to where the forest could find me again. I'm already starting to feel "found."
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.