An inward pause.

Standing still. Taking a slow, deep breath.

Silently witnessing as one year withers and a new one unfurls.

The annual undulation; time and space between thoughts, between plans and projects, between seasons, between years.

A reflective time, quiet and dark and moody. Open or closed, the eyes refrain from looking out there, and are instead drawn within. Somehow sightless, you soundlessly feel your way through heavy fog, sensing your place along your inner journey, as the cold dark river rages through your veins, intuitively and instinctually, as is the nature of things this time of year.

In winter she sleeps

Fragrant bright and wild.

Where have you been?

Where are you going?

And most pressing and pertinent of all:

Where are you right now?

Until next time,

With love, always love,

Gin