This is always the most culturally curious time of year of me. We are in the dark and holy days, all of nature is conspiring to pull us inwards, to attend to the unseen and subtle dimensions, and yet modernity has designed this time to be the most accelerated, most manically social, most avoidant and dissociative, and most desperately consumerist.     Perhaps it is that way by design. People retracting into candlelight and finding god in their bodies in the nothingness of darkness and fire...

I am sitting here writing to you from the forest of Lake Tahoe, listening to Daniel Imhof’s ambient excursions playlist on Soundcloud (you can thank him for most of these letters), drinking a ‘cup of joe’ in honour of David Lynch, (which any trip to the US is always a DL honorary), and the snow is falling all around me through the windows of our old 80s motorhome ‘Gloria’ - aka the closest I get to heaven to earth - snow . I have been quiet here, I apologize, life has been life-ing, and I’ve...

The last few years cracked me open to a lot that had been waiting for me in the wings, mainly the soul of the world, and how it is interlinked with my own soul. And how I can be both whole and broken,   And how the world can be both whole and broken.   I had to take up an apprenticeship with grief. Not because I was a novice to experiencing loss and profound heartache, but because the immensity of the grief that my heart cracked open to, that extended beyond my own little life, needed a much...