It is the time of my soul’s bleeding with deep connection to the land, which is calling again and again. It is such a powerful pull that it feels painful and pleasurable at the same time. It is a deep yearning within me that calls me to walk the land’s high hills and smell the soil of the old, moist, fresh wind-swept landscape my soul craves. My heart begins to ache in the feeling of missing my other home, the place that doesn’t let go off me when I am not around. It calls, it sings to me and my bones feel its essence. I miss it so much. I want to see stags gallantly walking the forests and hills and standing still staring, undecided whether to run or continue with their curiosity. They are such beautiful creatures, strong yet vulnerable. I yearn to see them in the land’s autumn dress with trees and grass changing colour and air slowly turning cool with a promise of winter. I wish I could stand at the top of a mountain screaming with delight for I am there, I am alive and the land around me embraces me in its vastness.
Every year it seems I bear the separation with hardly breathing and unable to hold my excitement when I am finally released into the land of my soul. I cry, I ache and spend long hours imagining, smelling, walking the hills and forests in my dreams. At times it is unbearable and I cry uncontrollably and I feel like putting on my boots and running towards the land however far. It feels impulsive with no reason existing in that moment of deep wanting to merge with the landscape, immerse my face into a cold water of a Loch and drink the fresh air of pine forest. The wind, oh how I wish to be swept with it and my face blasted with its force waking me up to my core, shaking all the cobwebs out of my being.
Another year, another period of waiting with a heart that aches and loves oh so deep…
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