pick up your sword



So May was a little rough, but as I crawl out from under my somewhat psychosomatically extended virus, I find I am able to pick up my sword again both metaphorically and literally. If only to do some gentle tai chi. And by psychosomatically extended I don’t mean ‘made up’, just that (as is so often the case) a lot of crap seemed to get dredged up from the deeps after our little boy was sick, dragging me down into a small but manful struggle with my body.

But now we have a blue Autumn sky and anything is possible under a sky like that. Brisk little clouds and a creamy Tasman blue, busy birds who don’t give a damn about our overly-complex human concerns (a Magpie calling me with increasing volume at the back door) and now I can look myself in the eye in the mirror and see someone very decidedly looking back.

So if you’ve had a little dip of your own during this chilly Autumn (or tempestuous Spring, as the case may be), join me and lets pick up our swords together, leap aboard our restless horses and sing a little travelling song as we go merrily into the unknowable green yonder.


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