Some days, I hear bells ringing.
When I’m on, I’m on. The symbols speak. And when they speak, they speak clearly, explaining calmly that there is a story here worth telling, and that it must be told in this moment, for these reasons. That it exists in sacred time. Sometimes there is a spark of certainty, a passing word read as though it is a light just turned on, or a bell just rung. Sometimes intuition rings.