His Road, My Home

A new journey is on the horizon. He has purchased a new vehicle. This one he has named Journey. She has been outfitted and designed as uniquely as all the others. A womb about to birth a new lifetime. He has been preparing and packing for a week now. He always gets like this before the tires hit the pavement. An overwhelming excitement of what lay ahead. He lives for the adventure, for the not knowing, the surviving. He's packed his machete, his hatchet, and his bow and arrow. The months here have made him soft and sleepy and his body craves the alertness needed in the wildness we are heading towards.

I am savoring the gratitude for what we will be driving away from. Looking long and lovingly at creations that have bloomed during our stay. Remembering the magic of finding another piece of Gaia to share. Setting in place the ecosystem of symbiosis that bubbles with life around me now. Welcoming the stewards and lovers of this sacred space. My body is ready for the rest that is coming. The languishing under canopies of trees while he hunts and explores.

He has found a brother to drive us. They speak a language known only to them. I watch them in passing. They do not use words but the fullness of their eyes tells of mutual understanding.

The fire ceremony was a culmination of all the bonds we have formed. An honoring of moments shared, and we have been blessed with many gifts, among them a small black book. It feels as though it knows the story that will fill it, my only part to hold the pen to it's pages. I can tell that while he is ready for the road, he is also sad about departing. He is avoiding the others. A gripping conundrum of receiving the love yet fearing it's absence. I know he will learn soon that it flows in so many forms from so many sources that it is never absent. But he's not there yet. So he struggles to suppress the tears that well up in moments he thinks I am not watching.

We have crested a mountain. Behind us lays a flat expanse of green. The simpleness of one plane. The ease of walking a straight line. The comfort of seeing what lie ahead. And together we wave goodbye.

Many fires have cooked the game he has caught. I can see his spark has returned. He has honored the animals for their life and their fight. For the excellence required of him to catch it. For the fullness he feels in feeding us by his excellence. He is hunter.

Thousands of miles have been kissed by the tires. We have traversed many mountains. He is climbing higher and higher in each place. He is wading bigger rivers and wandering through wider forests. He has sold more wares this lifetime. Each transaction a blossoming of his self and validation of his skill. He has started driving. Roman is a patient teacher, and they enjoy the thrill of sharing this new experience.

Today we felt the end of this lifetime. As we sat around the fire, bringing forth the fondness and gratitude and magic of the journey this far, as if writing it's memory into our bones. A tribute and obituary to the path we had followed. And with an end, a beginning….

A cosmic orgasm exploded into a beautiful design. All of the pieces and people aligned to bring us to the next refuge. It is a hill not quite big enough to be called a mountain, but regal and large nonetheless. The creek that flows down the curves of it's body swells with abundance. The valley below is vibrant in bloom. The animals have greeted us warmly.

Tomorrow the others will arrive. We have aquired supplies for the feast and the firewood gathered. It is spring equinox and there is undoubtedly a joyous ceremony brewing. I am giddy with excitement for the souls that will come.

It has been a month now. The kitchen is filled with laughter. The children frolic in the fields like spring flowers dancing in the breeze. Their smiles brighter than the sun that lights our endeavors. We have slept outside for many nights. Lulled to sleep by the whistles of crickets and swooshing of leaves. Five shelters have been constructed, including the yellow two story cottage where we reside. Each a delectable unique expression of their creators. The animals have birthed new offspring. Continuing the cycle of their gift to the land and to us. The food we planted is reaching and expanding.

Summer was filled with progress and fun. Our bellies and hearts are full from the abundance. Many friends have come and gone. Many nights have been danced and sung. Many hearts and souls revived. The time for introspection is upon us. We are closing windows, gathering supplies and preparing for warmth of the hearth and the sting of the cold. There is a calm in winter you cannot find anywhere else. A reverie as refined and royal as the white cape that wraps the earth. We will be sleeping with the others in the longhouse. Our fire tenders have come forward, and pledged to keep us warm during these winter nights.

Clans have formed inside the walls. Some have shifted and some not. I have not spoken to him much in this season. He is solid in his clan. He is the pillar. I have been watching. Noticing his chest become strong and open. His eyes relaxed and dancing. I don't think he knows he's changed. I don't think he sees what he has become. He is leader.

This space has impressed us so intensely. Perhaps not in a way that can be narrated or described, but in a way that is woven into the fabric of our being. Smooth against our skin and calming to our senses.

This refuge has brought me many messages flowing sensually into the pages of the small black book Yesterday it was found near the creek where I had forgotten it. It was read. The reader feels compelled to publish it, and has paid me $20,000 for it's content. A gift, not from the reader, but from the Universe. Paving the way for the next refuge, the next haven, the next home.

It is time now. The ice has melted, the caretakers resolute. We have become butterflies again. And he is ready to go. The van requires some attention. He has driven it to town. He is not the boy he was last year. Some people believe he is thirteen, and others see the age of soul. He has become better at finding them. More empowered to seek those that can hear him. He will tell me everything when he returns. Not because he needs approval but because he needs to remind himself that he has done what needed doing. I will pretend that I don't know this, and ask him if he remembered to fill her tank. Just so that he can say yes.

He has given me the gift of his patience, and been rewarded more profoundly than I. Sometimes he shares with me his new awarenesses, but usually my heart swells only from the observing of it.

I have no idea where his journey will bring me next. And that is my adventure. The thrill of being deposited into the blissful arms of Gaia. To set in motion another refuge for the trees and the travelers and the animals. To birth and contour another ecosystem that nourishes souls. Perhaps the next place will be among trees. A secluded meadow nestled deep in the forest that I will call my home. But now we follow his road.