How do we find that place of compassion deep in our soulful hearts to forgive our ancestors? For the mistakes that they made, the suffering they may have caused or endured, and for the wounds that they may have passed down to us through the generations?
Read MoreOften it was just the scraps I’d saved for the small blackbird with a bright yellow beak and a clear eye, who would visit every morning and sing to me so sweetly. It was my joy to feed him whatever I had left from my meagre meals.
Walking amongst the old tombstones of ancient Sussex churches, primroses, yellow and purple magnolia blossoms blooming in the Spring sunlight, I am a sacred fool talking to the dead
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