grief is a sneaky bastard

grief is a sneaky bastard

Ah, grief, I should not treat you like a homeless dog who comes to the back door for a crust, for a meatless bone. I should trust you. I should coax you into the house and give you your own corner, a worn mat to lie on, your own water dish. You think I don’t know...
What if we are the veil?

What if we are the veil?

Some of you will have heard me say this before and so I apologise for repeating myself,  but every year at Samhain I find myself sitting-with the premise of the veil between the worlds and each year I can’t help but feel like there’s more to it. The idea that...