When the Path Becomes the Ceremony

On finding our way when we are lost

From: Isle of Mull, May 2026

To:

Dear Friends,

I think the fairies left flowers here.

Not because I believe in magic, although sometimes I might; most of the time, the world is too pain-in-the-hip, backache, burnt-tongue, bomb-in-a-school, earthquake-real to find magic comes to mind.

But some days, it helps to think that even amongst the hardness: a man is baking a tray of scones, a woman digging a field of corn and someone, somewhere is looking up to see an eagle become the horizon,

and because of them there are fairies who throw seeds into the ground so that the paths are marked by white flowers and bright-bonneted bluebells.

So that the everyday walkers find their path has become a ceremony.

And even though nothing is going right, everything might also be going right too.

Or, we are reminded that we still can find our way.

Till next time, friend,

Catriona

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Prompt

When you start to write a ceremony into being, where does your pen take you?

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