Wednesday, 2 October 2019
Dear Owen, Christine and Hayley
What brings me to the big room? Everything….
But specifically? Hope, fear, smallness, shame and mystery. Voices that I want to hear. And service. Always service.
I write this in the early morning after a dream where I am covered in caterpillars that already look like butterflies. I go outside and carefully place these creatures onto tall plants that I know will nourish them.
As the stories we live by crumble, I feel the tension between the letting go, the holding on, the wish for change and despair of what that could mean.