The old stories are not old.
Today is not young.
You think you are yourself alone:
I look at you and see bears and giants
And strange birds of heaven;
One hundred thousand years
Is being lived in you, right now.
There, behind your left eye,
Is the cave where you dream, alone.
There, in that corner of your smile,
Is the mouth of all the worlds.
You are not old;
You are not young;
I’ll tell you this story now,
So that you can remember
All the Gods you are.
Dry your feet.
This is Coyopa.
Here's what to expect.
I write poetry - some of that is here and some of it's coming here. Watch out! Run!
I write fiction. By which I mean that I write down made-up true things. Some of them are stories and some of them are books. Some of them are here too. There's plenty more where they came from.
I'm a Wilderness Rites of Passage guide. Which sounds very grand. In some important ways, it isn't. But it's also work very, very close to my heart. I'll be writing about it another time, when the glass is thin and we're eye to eye, toe to toe across the whisky or the wild wind and we are understanding one another in ways beyond words.
I study Chinese Medicine. As of ...now... I'm studying for an acupuncture degree at the College of Integrated Chinese Medicine. It's hard work. Really hard work. It's worth it - for me, my family, my people. I don't believe we're heading for easy times and health services are going to be
I live on the edge of Dartmoor. It's a great brooding animal sprouting wild flowers, as dark and magical as silver and rain in the birches. It makes living in England possible. Before, I was in Wales. Before that, Scotland - other stories to tell. We'll see.
I bake bread. Right now, sourdough rye is Queen of the Loaves.
I take life very, very seriously. Seriously enough to know that laughing often and deeply is essential medicine. Sometimes I also forget.
Most of the rest'll come out in the wash and what doesn't is just between me and Baba Yaga.