The cold winds from the sea are always blowing over this little house making their longing song in the chimney. Song about longing for other shores, for other times. It is similar to the sound of flying in turbulent air, going somewhere fast and far, escaping forever. 

I went out. The wind wasn’t cold, it was warm, friendly and humid. When you feel like getting out – do it. Experience it for real. It is not as scary as it might sound.

***

The same story is shared with different people. Same of them say: it makes me longing to go out alone and explore without any purpose. But this is not what the story is about. None of the characters do this. The longing is between the lines.

***

The bountiful hedgerow has been chopped down and the wind is blowing, nowhere to hide, neither from the wind nor from the sight. Now you can see the wires swayed in the wind, making their longing song over the muddy road.

***

When in doubt, go to the sea. The sound is of  this planet breathing. In waves. A giant sea serpent’s spine on the beach, black with a bit of moss and sea weed. The tide is low. Seaweed smells like perfume. A weathered piece of of broken ceramic machinery in the sand. Nature always wins. But we are part of the nature too. ..

A collapsed cave under the cliff. What has happened to the hermit? Fiery orange berries are nearby, like bushfire. Why I always think about a hermit when I see a cave? Locking myself would drain my soul… A patrol with a beast is approaching, I better climb back. I’ve seen the cave, I’ve acquired a feather and a translucent stone. The sea sighed because if its loss. I am on the high ground now but the beast and ones who patrol the shore with it looked at me like they never seen a human before. 

***

To love wind and rain you have to tell yourself “I love wind and rain”. That’s all what it takes. It is a hot winter anyway.

***

Why go to the ends of the universe to see the people clinging to the past, thinking that there’s glory in war and power? There are islands of folks like this. We are all islands. And hermits in collapsing caves.

*** 

We want to say things universal but the only ones who can understand them are just like us. Really?

***

All those hermits in caves and ruins, in deserts or on top of sea rocks… It is easier to wait for some imaginary nice people to come and find you, then care for you indefinitely. It is comforting to mark off a day in your calendar. That’s done. It is easier to think of yourself as of nobody or even a failure. But the truth is, you have to go out into the big scary rough world and to do your Magic. The world needs you, it can go no further without you. You have to go out and to face uncertainty plus your worst fears. It is terrifying to be precious. It’s the responsibility. Yet you have to (re)awaken the Hero within…

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