There is a special place that exists just before twilight when all of the softy stirring trees remain as still and silent as a whisper, allowing a new cadence to emerge of even softer still insects flying. The birds cease chatter and the air sounds like the rays of sunshine parting clouds after a storm. I know because I write from this place. This place between worlds.

I’ve a guide in this place, a spirit housed in the body of a very unlikely plant. One that spoke to me from beyond this place, from a place where we understand the language of all living things.

There was a time once when humans were arrogant enough to believe that our language was supreme. I wonder how many important conversations we never had because of our own willful ignorance. Imagine if we had valued each other the way we value things? Where we would be as a society? How much further could we have come?

The land between worlds exists whether you make it there or not. It exists whether you see it or not. It is there even if you’ve never heard of such a place. It is there and that is all the proof there is. I could tell you how, but you’d have nothing tangible to show for it, except your ultimate conversion. And then the world will be for you to share and so on…such is life.

I found my artist there. I found my dancer there. I found my writer there. I found my voice there and in doing so, I finally heard everyone else’s. And how am I to explain to someone who can not see? That I can feel with a sense I cannot prove? That I am not crazy; I am primal. That I can see all versions of me simultaneously and all versions are both correct and incorrect just as simultaneous. That I exist across all plains, in all times. That I am both aware and unaware of these anomalies…


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