I am facing west, gazing out upon the rolling slopes of Mt. Ida. The olive groves and pine trees swaying gently in the breeze. The sun warms my body, piercing through my flash, gently caressing the essence that is Me.
The doves are singing a lullaby.
My day has come to a gentle close and I cannot help but gaze at the mountain. And take it all in.
“You are but a breeze upon the Earth,” an old seer said to me back in February.
A breeze, like the one the trees are swaying to? A breeze comes and goes. It does not linger.
The seer’s words reinforce the dreams I have had yet did not fully comprehend until…recently.
I go where Gaia needs me, and am required to just be Me.
“It’s for Her healing,” the seer says.
A consequence of my movement from place to place is to share and dance. I dance mainly for the Deities of the Heavens, but, Gaia is one of them too. And when there is a lapse in my offering, for whatever reason, I am nudged ever so gently…or not so gently.
A reminder; to dance. A reminder; to embody.
That is my job.
“I love your job,” the seer says.
I love it too.
So here I am, gazing at the rolling hills of olive groves, gently swayed by the wind.
A rooster crows.
My lungs are nourished by the air, my body nourished by the sacred mountain.
All I have to do is embody and dance. Release all worries, and maintain a healthy sense of detachment.
That’s half my job. That’s half my purpose.