Sanctuary

I have seen Giraffes in the wild. In the African savannah. These ones in Devon will never learn to negotiate their tongues through the thorny branches of the acacia tree. 

Today is the anniversary of my father's death in 2012. I have been feeling his presence for days. I think maybe he was there in the room this afternoon, along with some other healing love energy -  Robin's, and the angels, and my ancestors -  when my cranio-sacral therapist laid her gentle hands on the knot of muscles in my sacrum. She said it made her smile - the warmth of all that love and support for me.

Driving home through icy rain and wind I could still taste the marvel of it and I realised however deep and wrecking this claw of grief is....however long it takes...doing it my own wobbly way.... this shield of love is available to me to call on. Even when I don't feel it - it never leaves.

And all this letting go ....letting in....holding on...and howling.... is knackering. I put a bucket on the floor under the leaking plastic roof in the kitchen, put a pot of rice on to simmer, make a Teriyaki marinade for the slab of cod fillet that I took out of the freezer this morning and retreat under my blankets on the sofa. 

So grateful there is nothing else to do except follow the pull of my tiredness....and sink into the sanctuary of that forever sacred love - for a few precious hours anyway.