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The Source



She found him at the Source. Where the gurgling burn wheels and whirls down gullies over smooth stones, snaking past mossy tree roots and dark cusps of peat. The scent of the earth and pine alchemising with the purity of airy snowflakes melting as they danced and disappeared with the water. The Source of Allt Dhepin, River Deep. Further down-river, the Giant’s Falls plummeted and plunged frothing and foaming, unforgiving with unquenchable, unending thirst for more: sustenance from the source of the earth’s waters.


The atmosphere shifting between glints of bright sunshine filtering through veils of cloud before denser dark sky-shapes loomed closer upon the cold wind, sprinkling the frosty peat and heather with a layer of sparkling white dust.


Where she found him, her wolflings started to play. Zooming off after one another onto the trail less trampled and back again, splashing across the burn and disappearing into the scattered fir trees. Here? She mused, heart-warmed and re-directed her route. Underfoot, the frozen crisp landscape crunched, as the breeze whipped up around her cheeks, she tightened her hood around her ears and breathed deeply, satisfied. As the Leirg, the grassy slope steepened, her legs warming up as her pace quickened into a joyful skip. Ruffling the fluffy head of MacOdin, her faithful protector as she reached the cairn, taking the view of the heathland over to the coast and the Eillean Spittal, Island sanctuary beyond to the East. Toward the Northwest the Sleeping Warrior slumbered on shrouded in blankets of snow-clouds past yonder Loch na Leirg.


The spacious vista offered the trio the freedom she had envisioned. From the pretty coastal cottage, they had wandered up here away from the eyes and the views of any other living soul. Here, she only need commune with the God/Goddess as she jumped from tuft to tuft of heath, her wolfling friends bounding out in front.


Presently, they quickened their pace back in the direction whence they had wandered from as the snow angled sideways with gales beginning to bluster, the sky darkening again and the air cooling further. Descending, she found her heart in crescendo as the living waters around her began to somehow seep through into her very veins alive and warm, it felt like liquid gold with crystalline charm-quarks sparking on her skin. The quantum realm engulfing her within this ‘thin place’. As the wilds became her, her wolflings gathered around more closely, resonating keenly with a purified heart. The alchemy of the living waters from the great spirit, the divine Christ-light filling up to infuse her earthly flesh, sacred and holy.


Returning later to the cottage, within a while she had to lie down so strong were the waves of energy flowing down through the back of her skull and neck and down through her womb space. And with this, she knew, he had returned here, with her. She felt his fire as a mosaic fission patterning through her light body as his essence explored and revered her from the inside, out. He knew her, more surely than she knew herself. The year of the tiger approached.


River Deep, Mountain High.

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