Coming home to myself

I’m not sure why… maybe it’s the increase in activity with the easing of lockdown restrictions, and the surging back of stuff in the diary? But I have felt like I have been greeting myself passing lately. Apart from moments of delight on occasional walks, or in times of meditative stillness with others or on my own. Then, I arrive, I am 100% present in the moment.

This poem is helping me to come home to myself in a wonderful way. Short but profound:

Love after Love, by Derek Walcott:

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