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Look To Your Source

She was driving home, travelling west, at the end of a long day and an even longer journey.  Caught the boat with minutes to spare and then, only then, could she switch off the engine and rest.  Stop, and breathe.

Although it was late, there was light in the evening sky yet.  She went up on deck to breathe in the short journey home.

As the light fell, she stepped into a moment that was neither day, nor night, but the time in between.  She stepped into the warmth of the late summer evening, and the cool of the sea-river breeze. She stepped into a place that was neither highland nor lowland but the place in between, crossing from the heartland of Scotland to the opening of the hills and the promise of the mountains beyond.

She stepped into the moment of the short ferry crossing, just the ferry, going back and forth, plying its trade across the river which wasn’t just the river but also the sea, not just the river and the sea but a wild pattern of sea lochs and hills, of ports and cranes, of ferries and pleasure boats, of past, present and future, that mad weir of tigerish waters, flowing into and out of the source.

It was a place, a time, a moment without edges, without structure, without form.  It was neither one thing nor another, not words, not writing, not art, not painting, but something that grew from the place in between.

She looked up at the orange streaks of light touching the dark hills behind the Holy Loch.

‘Look to your source’, the sky said.

Nana i ke kumu

And she knew what it was she must do.

Inspired by Janice Cartier, her work, her writing, and her snail mail postcard project.

Nana i ke kumu : look to your source, a teaching I learned from Rosa Say, Managing with Aloha coach

‘Mad weir of tigerish waters’ is a reference to a line from the Louis MacNeice poem ‘Entirely’