Notes from a Time Traveller by Elke Stevens

I left Orkney at the end of July. My heart was heavy, weighed down by the land and the ties I’d made. Yet, as if the island itself was reluctant to release me, something strange happened. As I stood at the ferry terminal, something weird happened my booking, without warning, was cancelled and rebooked for the 21^st of September I had done no such thing. At that moment, I felt almost cast out, as if Orkney had rejected me; even on the day of my leaving, it pulled a trick out of its hat and added some more confusion to an already torn heart.

Yet, beneath the surface of that unsettling feeling, it seemed the land had plans beyond my understanding plans I wasn’t ready to see. Now, as autumn begins to whisper its arrival, Orkney, with its painted skies, long winters, and endless summer days that blur into twilight, is drawing me like the pull of the ocean. This return feels different, as though I’ve been summoned by something unseen, something older than time itself, something mystical. Orkney’s pull is deeper this time, drawing me not as a wanderer but as someone ready to live

I come not as a wanderer chased by fear but with an openness to embrace the life that waits here.
It feels predestined, touched by something almost magical. A mystery, as if the land and time itself have conspired to guide me back at this precise moment. Like the island itself has woven me into its own timeless saga. And on September 21^st, the equinox, I drive off the ferry again, a time when light and dark balance in perfect harmony seems too precise to be a coincidence. It is as if time itself has bent to guide me here, as though the island is holding its breath, waiting for me to step into something unknown, something fated.

There’s a magic in the air, subtle but unmistakable as if the universe itself has conspired with the island. The winds whisper of a fate I’m only beginning to understand as I wonder if this return is more than chance, more than the turning of seasons. Could this journey, this return, really be about more than timing? Perhaps the island, with its ancient heart, stones and windswept shores, decided my path, a path tied to its mysteries.  As the equinox nears, I can’t help but feel like a piece of a larger puzzle, drawn into Orkney’s quiet, mystical pulse. I can’t help but wonder if this journey was ever truly mine to control, or am I simply a part of a larger story written long before I arrived?

©️ Elke T.B. Stevens 22/09/22