She travelled

Updated: Jan 20

She had travelled, until recently.

She had travelled to the red mountains in the far west and climbed dry rocky trails

She had ventured across the ocean to her forefather’s homeland and tasted many grape varietals, listened to cicadas hum in the pines.

She had travelled to her foremothers’ land to sing and do rituals amongst the standing stones and in the fairy glens, soak her selkie skin in seaweed.

She had led ceremonies with drum, voice and art in her own homeland hills in the midst of mid-winter and fall foliage.

She had made her own drum of wapiti skin and learned to breathe her heart’s rhythm along with other women.

She had travelled far beneath the earth into a rocky cavern, where she sang and let her voice ring out, and watched the Neolithic bison shimmer and cavort under the shadow of a hundred flashlights a kilometer deep in the Grotte de Niaux.

She had prayed in monasteries, harmonized in an ancient chapel with the women at Dufort, watched as thousands of soccer enthusiasts cheered a win on a large screen outdoors in Toulouse then took to the streets.

She had climbed the Spanish steps in Rome, soaked in the thermal springs of Sorano, Italy and watched the solstice light at summer creep into a gothic cathedral’s thin window, running along the walls and rock columns, brightening and stretching into Day.

She had sought peace in the Berkshires on yoga retreats, followed her teacher from the wild wallaby sanctuary in Amaroo, Australia to the center of London and Miami, or the hills of Malibu.

She had traveled to the far reaches of South Africa to wake at dawn and watch baby hippos, monkeys, rhinos, wild dogs, lion cubs and cheetahs roam in a wilderness sanctuary, marveled at their stilled presence and wide-open eyes so near by.

She had swum in several oceans, the Pacific, Atlantic, and Mediterranean, but preferred the quiet lakes of the Laurentians or the calm rivers of Ontario.

She had driven up the coast of BC to Nanaimo and Quadra Island, lived for a month on the edge of the Juan de Fuca Strait in Sooke, with orcas right out the picture window and whale-song echoing in the fog.