Bypassing the convention of homeless junkies on our corner, I kept chanting as I walked. My song blended well with their jams, keeping rhythm with their beat. Soon I was deep in the woods, cloaked by mist, surrounded by trees.
I made it to my sacred spot. The earth seemed to have shifted since my last time there. Tree limbs were down exposing the sky as if I walked into it, not the woods. I sat in the mystery of change, loving what I could.
When we’re you last in your sacred spot? Has it changed or have you, or maybe both? Ki to Happiness loves the mist and the mystery.