-
The wind here doesn’t ask for permission.It simply arrives fast, forceful, unrelenting, carving through stone and skin alike. When I first came to Orkney, I thought the silence would heal me. I imagined the cliffs would hold me; the tides would teach me to breathe again. And in some ways, they have. But healing isn’t…
-
Eight years later, the realisation arrived quietly, like mist rising off familiar ground, only now seen through a different light. I was living in Orkney when I finally named it: Autistic.Two syllables that unravelled decades of misdiagnosis, silence, and shapeshifting. It was a lightning strike, not a single revelation. It was thunder, painful, when I…
-
Just a thought! If we want to avoid victims, if we refuse to become victims ourselves, we must first stop being perpetrators. As human beings, we have an extraordinary power: we create. We create respect, tolerance, equality, and peace; these are ours to wield, and we don’t need aggression to do so because we’re already…
-
Your weapon was never fire nor metal.No sharp blade, no arrow, no hardened armor.It was a benevolent smile and a warm, open heart that overflows with kindness. It was you, you who shattered the shield that was keeping my heart cold, closed, and dark.The walls I’d built, stone by stone, from years of hurt and…
-
“My beauty of Orkney mainland, a creature with a benevolent smile, a character clocked in duty, with features for a poet’s muse. She does not know, but hum, what if she did! “ They might not see how I feel the light of the setting sun of evening blankets around the familiars in Orkney and…
-
He came to me in shadow and mist, wrapped in the scent of earth and musk. His body was a fortress of sinew and power, yet his touch was as gentle as a pebble in the wind that swept over my untouched skin. I had called for healing, grounding, some union between fragments of myself,…
-
It is time to take a step forward, not in surrender, not in forgiveness, but in something more dangerous. In reclamation. Before the star can shine its healing upon our hero.She is leaving The Devil’s shadow behind, but that does not mean the sound of his voice in her head has faded. It’s the chains…
-
The hero stands at a crossroads, between two cards: The Devil and Temperance. She has stood before Justice, staring into the mirror of truth. She has hung in the void of The Hanged Man, her world turned upside down in search of understanding. She has surrendered to Death, letting it strip away what could no…
-
Orkney has always been a land of omens, where the wind whispers truths few dare to listen to. It is a place where tides do not simply rise and fall, they call and pull, dragging the past from its shallow graves and placing it at your feet. But a sage will learn the art of…
-
As we collectively have fallen into the Dark Night Of The Soul, “a spiritual, mental, emotion crisis in the journey of the meaning of life or union with god.” Sensing mother’s womb cry for salvation, still in human slumber, pages in a chivalrous story, neglecting our shadow side (our ego, that part of us that…
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
Notes from a Time Traveller by Elke Stevens 