When people tell you they went on an excursion or to a healing place or even as simple as camping alone...and something happened...they are as serious as, well, I'm not even sure how to describe this feeling... this thing that really happens to you.
I thought long and hard about how much I could shed and share...how much I was willing to give away about my time in Greece.
I don't keep so much for myself as most of you know. My brain works as a writer and as I see it and sometimes, well most of the time don't see it..but feel it... it is my duty to write and bring you to places you have not been... or maybe take you back to a place or state of mind you lost. I'm with you all the way. And truth be told, I just can't help myself most of the time.
But after two days back on British soil, I just can't muster the strength or the... I don't know really... to tell you just what happened to me on the beach of pebbles, cobble-stoned streets and amongst the deep soulful eyes of Lendas. Something almost as deep as the gaze they hold when you try to rush by and they slow you down to partake in Retsina and conversation.
They don't see you as a busy girl with so much to do... or a lonely traveler with need for respite.
They just see your spirit, clear without any muck at all.. and expect the very best from you.
And what you end up discovering... is there is so much good you hide amongst the papers and the calls, the running, the lonely heart. You don't even realize what you are missing until you have slowed like a kite adrift. Honestly, I felt quieter than I ever have in my life... in every way.
So I am holding my stones collected and given, running my hands down my newly tanned skin.. but mostly gazing into absolutely nothing... just trying to convince my spirit it is time to come home.
If by chance it doesn't return, I suppose I can collect it next year when I return.
For now... my spirit still roams the beaches...