Bergamot, wild ginger, lavender

Since meeting Fernando the osteo, let’s call him GF, my interest in essential oils took a rocket moon leap. Doterra is apparently the only place to source them and I am building a tiny collection. Deep Blue, copaiba, jasmine, lavender. Jingling glass bottles of potions that I line up along my fairy lights. They glow at night and take on the forces they represent. Bergamot, wild ginger and lavender for a friend in a dark place. Precious melissa oil to encourage the healing of my mum’s precious viola nerves. Green Witch, my handbook to a familiar spiritual world. I am growing little shoots, little sprays of green in my room. Bottles against windows filled with water and life. Every sense is on fire, as if ignited by the dragon. Walking along the Camden lock I hear a boatman whistle. As if attuned to the sun, his music glitters in ripples behind him. It is as if he is in my ear. Further along, familiar Israeli reggae spirals out to me from the market. How many years since I heard that song? The Butterfly tarot lady sees light in the darkness. A clear line of spiritual awakening reaching out and stretching into lighter times. Meditation has been advised and I have a journey ahead of me. The referenced lady on the tube, that brief little tale lingered long after she disappeared into the throng at Euston. A crossing of frequencies, a connection made and lost. ‘Does this stop at Euston? I always drive, normally’. A spirit that lifted and was gone.