God Bless the ones whose nagging visions won’t leave them alone... who choose not to be left alone by them...
They call us... in our dreams... even through the thick mucus of sleep... they wake us in our slumber... making us move our feet towards them. Just before the sun rises... out into that field... down that spiral hidden trail... or onto that flight. They call us... those ancient places, to seek out that long forgotten Temple... that lush Mountainside that is teeming with Life-Alive... of a way more Whole... more Connected... to gift us that vision, a glimpse, a message, for us to anthropologically excavate... our own roots. Ourselves. Our Truest purpose.
Often lonely. Never alone, held by spirit, here we soul adventure. As renegades, as rebels, as ones on the brink, forging our own moral compass, transcending borders, as we autonomously find that path led only by spirit... back home. To a more Whole way. The only time we are ever truly sad is when so thick in the paralyzing mucus of... clock tick... we ignore them. Those calls.
Bless the wanderlust anarchists keeping the primordial fires lit. Where shamans, sages, and wanderers are alive and well. Where Goddess Gatherings, and Wild rumpuses thrive. Where Wolf Children not only hear the Call, but send the Call out even Furthur... These are the places where gypsy caravans still exist, and lush, ope-air mossy fairy temples are waiting to bathe such intrepid spirit travelers. These are the Neverland worlds where dreams are born. These are the places Where Troubadours and Love are One. Held by Spirit We soul Adventure
.- Lara Wahl
