THE GHOST | GHOST RANCH
In the deep dreams of New Mexico, I was thinking about a visitation, a ghost, a spirit, that reached out during a thundering storm — lightning flashing — and during that flash, there she was, hanging there. In that one moment — floating for an instance, swirling in the wind — and she reached out.
And that reaching out, that might’ve been a beckoning, or it might’ve been a “hold” — or stand clear; stop for a moment.
But she was there. Floating in the flash of light, distinct, luminous, the breeze moving her – now, some three stories above the ground.
More to the meditation, here: http://www.girvin.com/blog/?p=2744
Tim | GHOST RANCH, New Mexico