This month instead of an audio, I’ve been inspired to write and share photographs instead. I’ve just concluded an incredibly serendipitous house-sitting adventure in south west France where I took care of the house and little white dog of an artist and chateau decorator. I’m still drinking in the fresh memories of moonlit lakes, secret gardens, and imaginative house decoration. It felt like a passageway to another reality. And with a summer of travel ahead, it seems the enchantment has begun.
Inspiration
Inspiration. The word is a golden thread weaving in and out of the haphazard fabric of my life. It’s a word I love, despite having had deep issues with it. A decade or more ago now, just before I began my off-grid mud hut adventures, I was sitting about a campfire with two very good friends in Turkey. We were all at poignant junctions in our lives, and questioning our ‘calling’. I’d been teaching for most of my life, and I’d got it into my noodle that I was supposed to inspire people. For some even odder reason I thought I had to run a spiritual centre do that (?!) From this future standpoint I really have no idea how I’d come to that conclusion.