Notes from a Time Traveller by Elke Stevens

The past six months have been a journey of transformation, marked by the turning of the seasons, each moment bound to the rhythm of nature itself. On the summer solstice, I left Orkney behind, banished by the greed of those who had forgotten their humanity. Homelessness followed, a time of untethered existence where the ground beneath me seemed as unstable as my spirit.

But then, as the summer equinox arrived, I found myself driving back onto the Orkney ferry. Though battered and uncertain, I was returning, ready to reclaim the pieces of myself I thought I had lost. It was a quiet homecoming, one filled with apprehension but also hope.

Now, here I stand on the winter solstice, holding the keys to my sanctuary. It isn’t perfect; there’s no flooring yet, and the shower works only in theory, but it is mine. As Yule approaches, the evergreens in every home remind me of offerings to the gods, symbols of resilience and endurance through the cold. And within me, there is a settling. My shoulders have softened, and my heart feels a little less guarded.

This year has brought me to my knees and taught me the bittersweet art of letting go. It has whispered truths about love and attachment, teaching me how to care without being consumed. There have been lessons I never wished to learn, moments I thought would break me, but here I am, still standing, and with a smile.

I see now how my life mirrors the turning wheel of the year: the summer solstice cast me out, the equinox guided me home, and the winter solstice has given me a new beginning. This year was one of survival, but the next will be about love and home. A new chapter, or perhaps time for a new book, written under the same pink skies that have always been my silent companions.

There is magic in this life, in the cyclical nature of loss and renewal. And as I look forward, I can feel that magic stirring again in the spirit of Yule.

©️Elke T.B. Stevens 22/12/24