This is a summer of ambiguity; politically, socially and, personally.  I imagine being a small piece of seaweed, being tossed about, sometimes doing some tranquil  bobbing, other moments being battered under by the sheer weight of water.  I can see the shore but have no clue how to get there and even if I do will a ‘Skorrie’ come to peck me to pieces, or a large boot squash me into a blubbery wet mess? Is it safer in the wild sea than on the sea shore?  I just need to wait and see where the elements decide to take me.

A consultant phone call to a beach hundreds of miles away, turns life upside down, inside out, back to front.

Last time we lived with 3 days of ambiguity, this time as it’s the holiday period it’s at least 3 weeks for some more informed answers. This is Ambiguity with a big fat A.  Boy, it’s tough.

And this time round I have no moments of bravery, no pithy responses, no false promises.  This time round I am more knowing than before.

There can be no certainty.  I have learned this.  There can be no absolutes. I’ve learned this too.  Whatever lies ahead is ahead. Not now. Now right at this moment that I type. I have given my offering to the garden Buddha knowing he also can make no promises.  

Craig and I look at each other through tear stained eyes, taking it in turns to talk each other off the ledge. We talk about worst and best case scenarios while gulping strong G&T’s and listening to JJ Cale. We are raw honest in our conversations, tightly bonded by this latest development.

I talk to Mr Moon and Es Vedra in the wee small hours of the morning. Connecting to their power, channelling strength and resolve.

There is nothing to be gained by allowing thoughts to rush ahead.  we are working hard to stay in the moment.

Ibiza works her magic.  Let’s enjoy.