… to say I was compelled is putting it mildly. It was almost as though an innate part of me, an ancient part of me, knew that the rock held some essential truth in it I was meant to find. The stories of the Earth are written there in crystal, fossils, obsidian, minerals… what part of that was meant for me?
Be Kind to the Suffering
My life has been perfectly imagined into being, likely by the child I used to be, toddling on the beach with my Great-Grandma Casson, herself an artist—a painter and a songwriter. So I guess my wishes have come true, many of them. I just didn’t notice them when they did.