On grief, owls, & pilgrim's pockets
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Talismans and spirit animals have a way of hopping into my pockets like baby joeys burrowing into their mothers’ pouches. A petrified sandshell from the Sinai Desert, the hazel wood wand from Glendolough Ireland, seaglass and silver beaded bracelets via Spain. This morning they all surround me until finally I jump into their pockets and go along for the ride. They beckon me to be brave and ask the questions that I’ve never asked and to welcome the ones I push away.
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