the Red Heart

We have a couple from New Mexico coming up Thursday to check out the farmhand/intern digs. Olivia pulled through. I gotta grab that gesture, hug it, value it , enjoy it. Been feeling down and dumpy lately outta some sort of deep seated feeling of lack of support. This has to go way back into the wee days, and I can't really put my finger on it. Back to the days that made me feel like an orphaned, rag doll, even if I wasn't. Anyway, I am working on using all this gypsy skill to build a home and lifestyle that runs deep, deep into the soil and through the root systems , through fence lines and down the creek beds. Hope we don't all loose our minds in the process.
This isn't meant to scare anyone off, even if it it is a public expose of sorts...Its just that building this sort of close unit is very intense sometimes. Papa Shealy keeps saying, "This is how they do it in Europe." Sigh Sigh, I say, cuz I am half wild coyote of the desert I say. I guess this is about learning all the different ways to live togehter and apart. Around and not.
Most of what I have been craving, missing, yearning for, is a spiritual connection to the land, and folks who share that and support this. A few nights ago we held hands and prayed together,I asked for a sign. My skin got really hot and glowy and tears just streamed down my cheeks. I knew I wanted something more out of life, and I felt like I  was hitting brick wall, in discordance with all the people I love, feeling  out of step and bad.
The next day I got a strange phone call from a person I had never met. He and his people build wheelchair accessable gardens in WNC. Its was so odd, because he said he got my number from someone at BoBo Gallery. Or that I gave it to him. I take that as a sign, and am going to go by their place this week on the way to Asheville.