Sometimes we can hear the voice, but cannot make out exactly what we are hearing. It is just a calling.
For me, I slipped out of bed, and quickly put some things into a travel bag while my partner slept fitfully, waking at every move I made.
He could feel the disturbance. He could hear he sound of something calling me. He felt the draft of the open window and door, pulling me out of our warm bed. He was alarmed.
With a single change of clothes and a dress, I left the house, feeling for a direction. Listening. I travel with my hand on a mala, sailing on a carpet of grace.
The Mystical Gypsy continues to move through the illusion of space and time, along this terrain we call geography.
