Visitors

Dear friend,

I love to be in liminal spaces, where time feels suspended. Christmas Eve, New Year’s — nights I wish would last forever. Like the morning when snow has fallen and is yet to be touched, even by the prints of a robin’s foot.

But we are temporal beings, only for the briefest blink of cosmic time. Visitors here, on this blue pearl.

I’m at an old farmhouse in the hills outside of Chieri. Against all of my expectations, I’m somehow communicating in Italian — even preferring it to English, which surprises me. The folks here are old friends of Chiara’s mum and dad. They welcome me as if I’d been part of their world all along.

We talk about food mostly. Then I find myself speaking with the youngest son about Christ and the third eye, and about this being a hard place for those who remember the stars.

But more than that, this is my last daily post for the year. And next year I’m moving to weekly.

I’m someone who likes to hold on for as long as I can — people, places, ideas, identities. I knew it would be hard to let go of writing to you every day. It’s held me through the past two trips around the sun, and I hope it’s meant something to you.

Thank you for showing up.

Thank you for being here.

My commitment for the year ahead is to write daily and to work on the craft of writing — publishing weekly, on a Sunday — and to see where the change takes us. So this isn’t an end. I’m in for life now. I’m reminding myself that I can come back to daily if I get lost.

You may not realise how much of a guiding light it is for me to know someone, somewhere, is reading. I didn’t — until we were a year in.

I have the feeling the year to come is going to be a strange one. We’re moving ever deeper into a period of change. All I can do is affirm how I want it to go — deeper into unity and peace.

Wishing you the very best for the new year.

Lots of love, and oceans of hope.

Till next week,

Love,

Mikey