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Its a strange feeling, being between lives.

I’ve a good sense of who I am and what I want… its just making that choice, stepping, with both feet at once (a leap, really) into the future I’ve turned towards. It looks like I’ve chosen, but I’m not quite committed, not yet.

I’ve burned the bridge back, amicably but definitely.

I’ve been given, handed on a silver platter, an opportunity to make the transition easily, and it still feels so hard because I’m scared.

What if? What if?

I’m deep-down-in-my-very-core terrified. And I know its this way or nothing. It feels so right. I’m scared and certain, at the same time. Fear and desire, those dancing twins.

From the tension, as Thorn has taught me, can be born a new thing, a third thing, a proud thing. I can make a choice, and raise the new-born peacock high.

What am I choosing? What have I turned my caravan* towards?

I’ve chosen to move back to the green hills of Wales (though I’ve kept my job in England as a safety net), I’ve chosen to start writing more seriously, both academically and magically (see the Feyhearted blog for a weekly project which has been weekly for 6 weeks, and is scheduled to be weekly for another 2 weeks already. I’m not only continuing a project, I am actually ahead of deadline! Go me!). I’ve chosen to do what will make me happy, rather than follow the trail of shoulds that have been threatening for a year.


I successfully buried an important thing there. Something I don’t really belive but, look! See all the times I do it! I appear to be becoming a…


Artist I get. Witch I get. Academic, student, dreamer… all things I’ve long accepted. I still ignore the label ‘writer’. Its important to me. I write all the time. More than I make art. And I have trouble with it. Despite having written a book. Having written many short stories. Having kept a sporadic blog (or 5) for years. Having written essays and dissertations… and having enjoyed the process.

So yes, I’ve chosen to be a writer. Among other things. Since, if you don’t do/know/love other things, what do you write about?!

There are other ways, other commitments I am in the process of making, like actually releasing my old home and becoming present in my new home. This one feels key though… I find, strangely, that I love to write, I long to.

A writer.




*Caravan. Yep. Havi is a pirate queen, Eileen has a sailboat. I like stability, I like having a home, I like freedom and colour. I have a gypsy caravan. I might talk more about this later. I might not. We’ll see.