Once again I stand here breathing, hoping to unravel from the restlessness I have been wearing around my heart. As I stand on the dock and ground my feet, the crisp and pure fall air flows into my lungs and starts to loosen the grip of the external world. Years, seasons and days have passed by in a blink of an eye but every time I am here, watching these trees and currents of the water changing colors everything feels the same.


Profound knowing that healing isn’t linear and that everything is constantly shifting in the movement of flow and seasons fills my heart with calmness. I breathe in and notice how the space is opening up and the restlessness starts to melt into the air.  

This is home, the space that heals, the space where time moves differently, where the energy swirls without restriction and intuition is awakened. 

For a fraction of a time the treetops are bathing in the last rays of the setting sun and I see everything through a golden filter. Reflections are mirrored on the surface of the water and I imagine myself gliding through the moments like a ray of light when it meets the water, moving in the world like a breeze of soft wind in the golden haze of the early evening before the night falls.

The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.
— George Eliot