The brown leaves from the avocado tree litter my deck. They are from a tree who produces little but further fodder for compost. Death and wetness and the spring rains dowse everything so that it decays. Like my inner life - so often not seeing the fruit - just the layers of death - dead things falling off like leaves - a mind life pruning of the non essential. Everything that is not of value to be biffed. Thats growth - a shedding of layers - a learning to die, so that the inner life can properly bud. A little green thing out of my ankle - a small new twig on my thigh. Soon there will be a babe being wrought in my leg - a new life in a male body - as I prepare for another death internally. What is more - I cannot see the horizon - do no know the path. A comfortability with not knowing is growing - and I lean into it like I lean into a weekend of children, meals, bed times, stories, cups of tea and cake - and imagining of this new life on the land with my three and maybe a fourth. It is my life. And it is a good life. I have to tell me that as I prepare to find resources that I’ve never had to before. As I step off one familiar threshold into the dark wood of this invitation. You, are an invitation I keep saying yes to. But beyond you is my soul summonings me to an unknown end - to a dark path that has treacherous falls and requires a knowing that is beyond knowing. A going where my own inner fire lights the way. I pick up the posture of a deep embodied soul and make my way across the wet ground. Feet shuffling - daughter by my side, son by my side, till I come to the end - till I come and stand with you, with myself, and give you all the biggest hug.