Dear Reader,
I hope you are keeping well and you aren’t taking much heed of the news these days. So what have I been doing?
Well I did the most beautiful walk on an Irish trail, took in the breath-taking scenery of islands galore. I stopped at a large Oak tree. I grew entranced in my Tai-chi forgetting the back-packers travelling by.
Further along the path, a clump of Irish shamrocks waved up at me. I knelt and collected their luck in my palms. Careful not to damage their breathing space, I turned to a very wise and wonderful witch who accompanied me on our quiet adventure. I made her an offering and she turned her wrists up toward me for a blessing. Gentle with my touch I placed the energy of these lucky shamrocks onto the sparkling blue ocean of aging veins that rushed like an babbling river beneath her skin.
This very special grey haired and naturally tanned witch tilted her grey goose neck up towards the blue sky and I saw the energy travel fast and quick back through her hands and up into her heart. A low holy hum reverberated from her lips. My wish for her to receive delicious riches from paintings of the orient will sit with love in her kitchen in a week.
I met a Hazel tree and checked for any fallen wish bones to be kept for water divining. None suited but the wells will reawaken soon my dears. In a special tree nestled coated to a brook I sat into a psychic tea cup seat and swirled silently into its memory. The witch smiled and fled off on the trail. Delight rising upon her face as the raspberries and gooseberries juiced up and flickered the sunlight onto her spectacles. They were excited to visit and blaze trail into her bouche.
Out popped an elf and sat in my mind’s eye telling me stories of their midnight glories with knombs and giants, beanstalks and fairies. I thanked the elf for his words of advice and leaped up in delight.
Waving goodbye to the blue, we turned a corner beyond the hedgegrew. The early mistletoe gave us a sweet prick of a kiss reminding us to recycle when we are through. The witch took out her broomstick and apologised to the holly for waking it up, promised it wasn’t us and picked up the crisp packets left by the others.
Leave the pub and get out for a walk.
Lead with the heart and let the head follow.
Anything is possible, lean into your soft Irish beliefs and watch what will follow.
Portia Poppet
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