Yesterday I spent time clearing the seating area around the firepit, mowing the weeds and ferns that had taken over all summer, moving the chairs around, raking the ground, restacking the firewood. I let the path and seating area grow wild each spring and summer, making only a single file walk to the chair at the mouth of the firepit when I visit. As soon as the weather cools off, my yard calls me and that’s when I begin clearing the trails and opening up the circle. I awoke about 2:30am and went outside to sit in the newly cleared area. From beneath the oak canopy I could see the full moon high overhead, its light filtering through the branches. I face my chair west so I can watch it move across the sky. At this time of night, in the stillness I can hear the distant traffic on Emerson, Malabar, I-95. It’s been awhile since I got to sit quietly alone with no other thoughts to tend to but my own. It feels as though a cloak has dropped from me. No one to answer to, no one needing me, me not imagining I’m needed anywhere. That’s a glorious feeling. It’s a different life, being a recovering recluse, balancing an outer life of writing and doing psychic readings, and I’m blessed with a partner who gets it. This is the first time in years that I’ve done readings during final layout week. I reflected this morning on how surprised I was to find how easily that flowed. It’s true, the busier I am, the more I can do. Also, the more silence I can let myself sink into, the more readily the spidey sense comes to the fore. When I’m in that flow, the magic happens. Tomorrow night is full moon, time to release what no longer serves me. I’m sure I’ll think of something.