A funny thing happened on the way home.

Shamanic Paths

It was an oddly euphoric moment of complete clarity.

The sun, low, casting great shadows across the landscape; highlighting features in the landscape normally hidden from view. The first flowers of Spring, punctuating in yellow the intense verdant of the season.

The sky, uncluttered blue, held aloft lazy seabirds surfing the cliff drawn breeze. Darker, the sea, unflecked and still, etched a clear horizon against a distant fog.

In the midst of all this, an instrumental started playing on the radio. I couldn’t quite place it, but the arrangement conjures growth, nurturing, the mother. The cadence seems to mirror the rise, fall, and turns in the road; the mood reflects the landscape as it reveals itself around each corner.

A couple of verses in I realise it’s Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years”, and I’m humming along, trying to remember the words:

Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I…

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